


Little Spones Drabbles

by Adenil



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Blind Date, But they get better, Cosmic Cosmetologist, Country Fair, Dancing, First Kiss, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Joanna McCoy - Freeform, Jocelyn McCoy - Freeform, Katra, Kirk Screwing Things Up, Last Kiss, M/M, Make-Up AU, Meet the Family, Shore Leave, Sickfic, Southern Bell Leonard McCoy, Space Pirates, Space Sickness, Vulcans and Chocolate, courting, ex-wife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:34:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 34,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of all my Spock/McCoy short fiction, written based on Tumblr prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr prompt](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149639942835/can-you-write-some-spones-maybe): "Can you write some Spones maybe?"

The away mission itself was set to be typical. The pre-mission preparations were…less typical.

“Spock, I am not letting you put that stuff on my face.”

Spock paused, his hand hovering in the air, the makeup brush shedding a fine dusting of foundation as he frowned at McCoy. “You believe that this is not your color?”

McCoy laughed out of reflex. “I mean just–can’t I do my own damn makeup? I’ve got a pretty steady hand as long as you don’t ask me to make my eyeliner straight.”

“That is not possible, Doctor. The Zeonadians are a highly nuanced culture with an intricate caste system demarcated by face paints. If you should err in your application by even the smallest margin, you may be mistaken for a house servant rather than a doctor. Additionally,” he said, looking amused. “Eyeliner will be required.”

McCoy huffed and grimaced at the foundation brush Spock still held, patiently waiting. “Maybe being a house servant wouldn’t be too bad.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose.

“I mean, what could go wrong? The Ambassador would just ask me to clean his house rather than sign the treaty and…” He groaned. “All right, all right. Just make it fast.”

“I will proceed at a pace that minimizes the potential for mistakes.”

And with that he tossed the powder in McCoy’s face.

At least, that’s what it felt like to McCoy. He understood intellectually that Spock was actually applying the foundation very carefully and precisely. It still felt like it was getting everywhere. The soft bristles of the brush felt nice against his skin and he grumbled under his breath.

The problem was the whole thing felt silly. He had never expected that Spock of all people would have the necessary qualifications to apply caste face paints, but apparently a degree in anthropology and a wild youth had served Spock well. At least, McCoy liked to imagine that Spock had been wild in his youth. He enjoyed the image of Spock decked out in deep blue eyeshadow, wingtips out to _here_ , and bright green lipstick. On second thought, maybe the green would clash. He could wear gold instead. Yes, that was a nice mental image of Spock under the greasy, dancing lights in the back room of some bar, throwing logic and caution to the wind as he set his steady gaze on the bar patrons undulating and writhing to exotic beats, one of his painted nails twirling around the damp rim of a glass of amber alcohol. The good stuff. Bourbon. Rich and dark that would make his mouth taste like burning when McCoy licked into it and—

McCoy shifted in his seat.

Spock seemed to be mostly ignoring him. He had a little rouge that he used to pinken McCoy’s cheeks. He moved his hand in precise, fluttering circles and eyed his work critically. He took out a small pencil-looking thing that was actually a brush–or something, McCoy didn’t know–and colored in the shape of McCoy’s eyebrows. Then he set the thing down and picked up the eyeshadow palette, frowning at it.

“What are you so grumpy about?”

“I am attempting to determine which color is most suitable to emphasize your blue eyes.”

McCoy felt himself blush, but at least it was hidden by the makeup. “I thought this stuff was all predetermined?”

“The application and style are, however color combinations must be determined by the presiding cosmetologist based on the individual’s skin, hair, and eye coloring.” Spock picked a soft lavender color and rubbed at it with a new brush. “On Zeonada cosmetology involves years of careful study, and expert cosmetologists are employed by royalty.”

“While I’m sure that’s facinatin’ Mr. Spock, maybe there could be less yapping and more of making me look good?”

Spock looked at him flatly and then rested the side of his hand on McCoy’s cheekbone. “Look down.”

McCoy obeyed his little directions as Spock applied five different colors to his eyelids. It was way more than he ever did himself–usually he just stuck to baby blue, thanks–but Spock seemed to think it was necessary. His water line, the crease of his eye lid, just beneath his lower lashes, everything got its own special treatment. When he was done McCoy had to blink a few times to get the dust out of his eyes.

Spock’s hands were steady and persistent as he traced out thin wingtips using a creamy blue eyeliner. McCoy almost squinted too hard during the application, but Spock’s disapproving scowl fixed him. He took out a little mascara wand and fluffed up McCoy’s eyelashes big and bold. McCoy found the whole thing a little awkward, especially when Spock wouldn’t break eye-contact as the mascara dried.

In the end, Spock took hold of his chin and turned his face left and right, eyeing his work critically. “Acceptable,” he said.

McCoy let out a hesitant breath, feeling oddly warm. “Well, I should hope so after all of that.”

“Now, Doctor, you must make a choice.” Spock pulled out a huge bag filled with little tubes of lipstick. “Various lipstick shades denote certain interests. For example.” He held up a blue tube. “This shade of 342-B7 denotes the desire to engage in casual conversation about the weather. This shade.” He held up a vibrant, pinkish-red. “Denotes a desire to stand aloof while others attempt to entice you with gifts. It is not uncommon for a Zeonadian to change lipstick colors several times throughout the course of the day. However, it may be prudent for you to pick one interest you would not be adverse to projecting throughout the night.”

“Well that’s convoluted,” McCoy groused. “Got anything for ‘stay away and don’t fuck with me?’” He picked up a random tube because it was green, the same green as Spock’s blood.

Also the same as Spock’s blush right then. “That color denotes precisely the opposite.” He attempted to take it from McCoy. “It indicates sexual openness.”

McCoy snatched it back. “Ooh really?” He giggled at Spock’s exasperated look. “Maybe I should keep it then.”

Spock hesitated. He looked quizzical. After a moment, he nodded. “If you wish.”

McCoy thrilled. He pocketed the little tube, his mind already dancing with all the ways he could wear it later. “But for now, let’s go with a casual conversation about how fantastic it will be once they join Starfleet.”

Spock scooted a bit closer and held McCoy’s jaw in one hand, the other carefully tracing out the line of his lips with a pale pink tube. McCoy could feel Spock’s warm breath on his skin, and the heat from his fingertips. He wondered if Spock could feel his heart racing at the casual, intimate contact. Spock seemed not to notice, and was instead looking at McCoy the same way he gazed into his science station: with open fascination.

It made McCoy shiver.

Spock took perhaps a few moments longer to apply the lipstick than was strictly necessary. Gradually, he pulled back, and reached over for the little hand mirror. He turned it to McCoy.

McCoy had to chuckle. It looked…good. Interesting, and not what he would have chosen for himself, but still good. McCoy could see that each layer had been applied with an expert hand. The blending on the eyeshadow was fabulous, and made his eyes seem bigger, the blue a little richer. His eyelashes looked about a mile long. The lipstick softened the otherwise bold look, and when he smirked it turned positively sinful.

He looked up at Spock, who was clearly awaiting his approval. “Looks good, Spock,” he said when he found his voice.

Spock inclined his head. “I am pleased, Doctor,” he purred.

McCoy squirmed in his seat. “So, uh, how long is this shin-dig going to last?”

“We could perhaps make a graceful exit after 3.2 hours.”

An eternity. McCoy groaned. He jumped up. “Okay, I’ll go get my dress uniform on then. You put your face on.”

“My face—?” Spock looked disturbed.

“Chop, chop, Mr. Spock. The sooner we get there the sooner we can leave.” He sashayed towards the door and keyed it open, only to pause in the entrance. He cast a glance back over his shoulder and batted his eyelashes at Spock, who was staring at him openly. “And, Spock?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

He sighed dreamily. “I can’t wait to see what you look like covered in little green kisses.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr prompt](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149821522180/some-disease-causes-spock-to-show-all-his-emotions): Some disease causes spock to show all his emotions on his face, showng the bigass crush he has on bones

“Bones you should, uh. You should get back here right away. Spock’s…caught something.”

McCoy sighed, already jogging back towards the center of town. The small Lagani had seemed peaceful enough, but he had still been an idiot to leave Spock and Jim alone. “Is it a disease or something sharp?”

“A disease, but the Lagani seem pretty excited about it.”

“I’m almost there.”

He skated into the town hall and ran up the steps, taking them five at a time because the Lagani were so small. Dozens of Lagani streamed past him excitedly, like they were rushing to get there ahead of him. He finally broke through the throngs with gruff “excuse me’s” and saw Spock standing in the center of the hall next to Jim, surrounded by hundreds of Lagani people. They towered over the Lagani, who were all pressing up against them and undulating with joy.

“Spock!”

Spock turned, and his face turned abruptly yellow.

McCoy came up short–because _what_ — even as the Lagani all squealed with delight and began talking among themselves. McCoy shook off his confusion and marched right up to Spock, pulling out his tricorder.

“Spock, what the devil have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“I have been infected with a ceremonial disease.”

“…What.”

“It’s true!” a Lagani said. McCoy recognized her as the high priestess. “He has been chosen by the Lagani Feeling-Knowing Sickness. It is a great honor.” She beamed at Spock, wiping a joyful tear from her eye. “No one has been chosen for many generations, since long before I was born. It is an honor to bear witness to it now. You should be proud of your mate.”

“My…mate?” He looked back at Spock, who had shifted to an impossibly dark blue. The color screamed “embarrassment.”

Jim chuckled. “They seem to think that this illness makes you wear your emotions on your face, as it were.”

Spock stood very stiff as he rapidly cycled through blue, blue with green polka dots, chartreuse, and purple before finally settling on slate gray. Apparently logic was a rather drably colored emotion. “It is not logical that this illness should make apparent one’s emotions.”

“Even if that were the case, we don’t know that it affects Spock in the same way. I need to get him back to the ship and run some tests immediately.” McCoy could feel himself staring incredulously. “I mean, look at him. He’s turning orange.”

Spock abruptly switched back to slate gray.

The priestess touched his arm again. “He is proud of you,” she said happily. “Orange, yellow. All the light colors of fondness and love.”

McCoy looked eyes with Spock, who appeared to be screaming internally (and who was a neon pink all over). He could feel a smile itching at his face. “Let’s…agree to postpone worrying about what these colors mean until after we’ve fixed him,” he said.

Spock’s shoulders relaxed, and he was once again slate gray. This time McCoy could see just a hint of silver at the edges of his skin, as if he were a cloud with a silver lining.

“What is there to fix?” the priestess asked.

“Where we come from, strange alien illnesses are cause for concern,” Jim explained to her. He gently took her by the shoulder, bending down almost double to do so, and lead her away. “Why don’t we discuss those mineral shipments someplace more secluded…”

McCoy rolled his eyes at their display and noted Spock turning the most preposterous blue again. Apparently second-hand embarrassment was colored the same. McCoy took out his communicator and had them beamed up to the ship.

“All right, Mr. Spock, let’s take a look at you.” He gestured towards the biobed.

He noted that Spock was being very quiet. In fact, he was not talking at all. It seemed all his concentration was being spent on maintaining his slate gray coloring. Spock removed his shirt and sat on the biobed with none of his usual complaints. He stared straight ahead at the wall as McCoy buzzed around him. Now that his shirt was off, McCoy could see that the coloring was everywhere, not just his face, and that Spock seemed to be fluctuating in and out of different colors in different areas. He was still mostly gray, but occasional bursts of lime green tried to sneak in.

“Spock…” McCoy said after a moment. “You don’t have to worry about hiding your emotions.”

“I suppose you intend to imply that this situation is of benefit to me. No doubt you find it humorous that my shame is on display for all to see.” His back and chest turned a dull and muddy brown, but Spock stopped it before it reached his face.

McCoy shook his head. “No, I…I can see that this bothers you.” More of the brown, and McCoy winced. “I just mean that it’s only the two of us here, and I think we both know that you’ve already revealed the worst of it.”

Spock looked at him then, his face scrunched up in tense distress and as he looked yellow blossomed over his skin. It was the bright, textured yellow of sunflower petals flowing over his skin and screaming, for anyone that was listening, that when he looked at McCoy he thought about love. It morphed into a metallic gold before dropping, just as suddenly, rushing off of him like water, and then Spock was a dull and dingy brown with whorls of dark blue. Embarrassed and ashamed.

“Spock, wait,” McCoy said, reaching out automatically to comfort his friend. He touched him without thinking about it, and the place where his hand rested restored itself to gold. McCoy stared at it. “I didn’t mean it like that. You don’t need to feel ashamed. I’m flattered and touched and I, well I just don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re sick.”

“Take advantage,” Spock said flatly.

McCoy didn’t need a disease to know that his cheeks were flushed pink with his own embarrassment. “When this is done we can talk about it,” he said. “I’m not just going to let you sweep it under the rug like I can tell you’re already planning to do. But you’re also sick, so I need to get you better first.”

The whorls of blue shifted and changed, and turned orange, and Spock was looking at him intently. “Your commitment to your work is admirable, Doctor,” Spock said after a moment.

McCoy smiled and let his hand trail off of Spock’s arm. The skin stayed gold there long after he’d left. “Let’s fix you up,” he said. “And then we can talk about color theory.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr prompt](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149828614455/if-youre-still-taking-prompts-spones): Spones-meeting Sarek

To feel nervous would be an illogical, human reaction to the situation. There was no reason to feel nervous simply because he was going to visit his father for the first time in ten years. There was no reason to feel nervous simply because he would be introducing his partner to his remaining family. It was illogical.

Yet, here Spock stood in the transporter room with his hands folded behind his back and his gaze locked on the far wall. The ensign beside him kept twitching a fidgeting and he tried to ignore her, but her own nerves exacerbated his own. Spock attempted to convince himself that his nerves were unwarranted once more, to no avail.

Finally, the doors swished open and Doctor McCoy rushed in.

“Sorry I’m late!” he said quickly. He stumbled onto the transporter pad and pushed his hair out of his face. “I got caught up in requisition forms and totally lost track of time.”

Spock could see that Leonard had not had time to change, nor to gather his things. While it was true that they could be beamed down to New Vulcan later, it was not optimal. “Where is your clothing?”

“What? Spock, it’s fine. We’ll get it later. Your Dad’s waiting.” He quirked a little smile. “And if I know my Vulcans, he would rather us be punctual than dressed.”

“We have already been delayed 12.3 minutes,” Spock said smoothly. “You must leave. You have not even combed your hair.”

Leonard touched his head again. “It’s not that bad,” he said, exasperated. “Will you just get on the transporter pad already? I’m finally excited about beaming someplace and I don’t want to miss out on the feeling.”

Spock hesitated. “…Perhaps you are not feeling well, if that is the case. We should report to sickbay.”

Leonard just stared at him, incredulous. “…Ensign Bates, could you give us a moment alone?”

“Yes, sir,” she sounded relieved.

Spock frowned as she left. “That was not necessary.”

“I think it was.” Leonard stepped off the pad and walked up to Spock, who held very still. “Spock, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It… is not logical that anything should be wrong.”

“That’s not really an answer.” Leonard held out his hand.

Spock glanced at it, considering. He had the irrational urge to hide his feelings from his partner, but he knew that sharing an emotion often halved its burden. Therefore, it was logical to take Leonard’s proffered hand. It was still incredibly difficult to do.

Leonard sent a brief spike of joy when they touched, but they he frowned. He got the inward gaze he always had when they shared any sort of telepathic bond, like he was reading something very close. “Damn, you really are torn up about this. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I…have not seen him in ten years.” He went willingly as Leonard pulled him into a hug, although he noted to himself that he was doing it only for Leonard’s benefit. He still pressed his face against Leonard’s neck. “I have…illogical concerns that he will be different.”

“In what way?” Leonard was petting his hair, and Spock relaxed into it unconsciously.

“My father has always been strict,” Spock said carefully. “And I have always attempted to live up to his expectations. But when we last met, we had just lost our planet and my mother. He acted…differently than I had ever seen him.”

“You’re worried that in ten years he’s gone back to his old stodgy self.”

Spock pulled away to frown at Leonard. “He explained that he loved my mother.”

“Oh.”

“Time changes one’s perception of events, even for Vulcans. My only concern is that he may have forgotten that it is possible for love to be more powerful than logic.”

Leonard seemed to melt. He gently touched Spock’s face, and Spock leaned into the contact for purely selfish reasons. “Spock, it’s going to be okay. I know it’s tough bringing your boyfriend home to meet your family, but we’ll get through this. I think your dad will understand.”

“Unlikely,” Spock said. “But he will…accept.”

“What more can we hope for, from our parents?”

Spock took the kind words as they were intended, and offered Leonard a small smile. Leonard laughed one of his beautiful laughs, the kind that made Spock’s heart swell with pleasure. He leaned in and kissed Leonard softly. “Thank you,” he said.

They called Ensign Bates back in and took their positions, side-by-side, on the transporter. Spock felt that his illogical nervousness had abated somewhat, replaced by the constant illogical fondness he felt for Leonard. But that was a feeling he had never been inclined to fight, and so he welcomed it instead. He accepted what was.

“Of course, there is one problem,” Leonard said. He was staring at his hand like it might bite him. Highly illogical. “I still can’t do the hand thing.” He tried to spread his fingers properly and failed.

Spock knew that he, too, was now looking at Leonard’s hand with open concern. “Leonard…”

“Energize, ensign,” Leonard said. He was grinning at Spock and as the transporter took them, he winked and opened his hand in a perfect Vulcan salute.

To smile at that would be illogical. Spock did so anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr prompt](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149862542720/for-a-spones-prompt-aos-mccoy-meets-spock-prime): For a Spones prompt--AOS McCoy meets Spock Prime?
> 
> CHAPTER WARNING: injury, death

“Doctor McCoy, please remain conscious.” Spock looked strange with red on his face. McCoy wanted to comment on that, but all that came out was a weak gurgle. “Doctor? Doctor you _must_ remain conscious until we can be beamed back. Can you hear me? Doctor McCoy? Leonard!”

He was tired. He reached up to pat Spock on the face, to reassure him, but he only succeeded in smearing more of that red around. How strange. He would just close his eyes for a minute. Spock would understand, he was sure, and so he let himself slip away…

“Ah. This is unexpected.”

McCoy had never believed in ghost stories, and he hadn’t believed in Heaven and Hell since he’d stopped believing in God exactly three weeks after his father died, but here he was. He sat up groggily and shook his head to clear it, squinting against the brightness.

“Spock?” he asked, and it was strange because his voice did not make a sound, yet it still carried, resonating off of the walls that didn’t exist because they were in an open, blank field of white.

“In a way.”

He managed to look up and although it hurt his neck he kept looking. It was Spock–the other Spock. Ambassador Spock stood stiffly next to him in a long, grey robe with his head tilted to one side, perplexed. McCoy blinked at him as he held out a hand. He accepted it, allowing Ambassador Spock to pull him upright. He swayed as he went, feeling unnaturally light–perhaps that was just the Vulcan’s strength playing tricks on him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Ambassador Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “I believe a better question would be what are _you_ doing here? This is not a place for humans. Have you died?”

McCoy gaped at him. He felt his hand lifting of its own accord to press against his chest, right over his heart, and when he looked down he saw only a blank space where his ribs were supposed to be. “I-I, oh my God. What the hell?” He wheeled back, but Ambassador Spock caught him. “What the hell is going on?”

“Please remain calm, Doctor. This place does not withstand many stressors. You appear to be dead.”

“Dead?” he tried to say, but nothing came out.

Ambassador Spock nodded somberly. “It is the only explanation. Although,” he looked contemplative. “I am unsure how you found yourself here.”

Now McCoy looked around, and he saw that the endless blank whiteness did not actually exist. The closer he looked, the more the world came into focus around him. Everything seemed transparent, but he could make out the shape of a room. It looked oddly like his quarters on the Enterprise, although different. It seemed older, somehow, and the things in it didn’t belong to him. “This is my room,” he said.

“No,” Ambassador Spock said. “It is mine.”

And the room came into being around them. McCoy could see, now, that this was not the Enterprise he knew. But it was an odd reflection. It sounded the same, had the same dull hum of the engines constantly running. It was smaller, and there was a brass wall demarcating the living area from the bedroom. The walls were draped in lavish tapestries, knives, and other objects. He could see a stringed instrument sitting on the table next to the computer. Somehow he knew that these were all the things that his Spock would have had, if he hadn’t lost his planet and then his ship.

“How is this possible?”

“Are you aware of the Vulcan Katra?” Ambassador Spock watched him closely as he shook his head. “It is the essence of a Vulcan, our mind and what you would call a soul. It is possible for the Katra to be preserved beyond death, to save the knowledge and memories of an individual. The Katra is usually preserved only so that the memories may be accessed later.” He looked around the small room. “Typically I am not so conscious of myself.”

“I’m in your Katra?”

“Yes. My Katra was one of the first to be saved on New Vulcan. But, you should not be here.” He frowned.

“The last thing I remember Spock was…holding me. Jesus, I-I died in his arms.” He felt sick, but of course he had no body to feel sick _in_. The realization only made him sicker.

“Ah. Fascinating. It appears that your death has inspired in him a desperate act. He must have saved your soul and deposited it here, perhaps in the hopes that he could someday revive you.” Ambassador Spock quirked an eyebrow at him, and McCoy felt deeply uncomfortable at the familiar gesture on the aged face. “He must be operating outside of Vulcan law, else he would have stored you in your own receptacle.”

“So I’m a what? A fugitive in your mind?”

Ambassador Spock got a curious look on his face. He closed his eyes briefly, and the room around them shifted and melted. It was later, newer, darker. It was happening in the future, but also in the past. “Is this what it was like for you, Ashayam?” Spock whispered, and McCoy could see a shadow in the dark, bent over the desk–him.

He gasped at the shadow. It _was_ him! Only older and thinner and shaking slightly, crying. Looking at himself rocked him to his core, and he jerked away. He somehow knew that this was him, the other him in that other universe.

Ambassador Spock opened his eyes and the scene vanished, replaced by the slightly more familiar quarters. “It is no matter,” he said. “Time here passes as in a dream. We should make the most of it. Tell me, how goes your mission?”

“R-right,” McCoy said, trying to shake off the uncanny feeling of having looked at himself through another’s eyes. “It’s, um. It’s going well. We have a year left.”

Ambassador Spock made a pleased sound. “Am I kind to you?”

The way he said it made McCoy feel like he had to sit down. He crumpled and suddenly there was a chair beneath him, one he recognized. It was his mother’s chair and as he sat he could feel the solid sense-memory of her holding him in her arms, rocking gently. She cooed to him and he felt better, but only slightly.

“Spock prefers to fight with me.”

“That may be a universal constant,” Ambassador Spock said with an eerie smile. “I also greatly enjoyed the debates I had with my Doctor McCoy. But please, Doctor. Do not mistake argument for unkindness.”

McCoy shook his head. “I don’t, really. If I did I would have to think that I’m just as unkind. It’s just funny that you phrased the question that way, is all. Spock isn’t great at kindness, or really any kind of emotion.”

“That may change with time,” Ambassador Spock said.

“…It’s weird to be talking about this with you when we’re both, well…”

“Dead?” Ambassador Spock supplied. He smiled more often than Spock did, and he smiled again then. “When else would we find the time? Even now it grows short.”

“What do you—” But it was clear as the chair vanished under him, although he appeared to be standing now, and the walls were suddenly gone, but he didn’t feel frightened. “I’m bleeding,” he said calmly, touching his chest.

“You will find the wound is gone,” Ambassador Spock said. He stepped forward and took McCoy into his arms, hugging him. It was the first real, physical feeling that McCoy had experienced in this place. It felt solid. Tangible. “Thank you,” Ambassador Spock whispered into his hair. “Thank you,” he said again, but this time it was directed elsewhere.

McCoy held him back uncertainly. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Ambassador Spock was still holding him, but also he wasn’t there any more at all. Or perhaps it was McCoy who was not there. “Tell him,” the voice echoed. “And ask him to play his lyre again. He will play for you, if not for any other.”

He could hear in the empty whiteness a single note plucked from a trembling string and it extended out into the blankness of their mindscape, vibrating and singing, and then it snapped and McCoy was flying backwards, only he wasn’t moving at all except for how he was falling, tumbling, and he gasped for breath and he could feel hands on his head and his face and his skin, and his mind was screaming and his body was on fire and he opened his eyes and there was Spock.

Spock looked older, and also younger. McCoy reached out and touched him, wiping wetness from his cheek that wasn’t blood. “Ashayam,” he said, although he didn’t know what that meant. It felt like a gift from Ambassador Spock, something to be shared between them.

“Ashayam,” Spock agreed, and he held McCoy close, rocking him as he cried.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr prompt](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149867053005/i-love-your-writing-umm-bones-trying-to-do-a): Bones trying to do a proper southern courting to Spock?
> 
> I emphasized the "trying" >:)

Spock had grown more accustomed to interpreting the moods of humans during his years on the Enterprise. Looking at McCoy now, he could tell that the doctor was deeply nervous. They sat in one corner of the observation lounge, tucked away at a little table. McCoy had requested his presence, and Spock had obliged because he saw no reason to deny him.

“Spock, I’ve been thinking,” McCoy said after a moment. Spock noted that his voice was pitched more deeply than it was typically, and that he was leaning forward to sit a full 12 centimeters closer to Spock than usual. “And I want to be totally honest with you. I find you to be interesting and beautiful, and I would like to know if you would be amenable to entering a relationship with me?”

“You are requesting permission to court me,” Spock said.

“Er, I suppose so, yes.” He laughed, and Spock noted that. He attempted to discern whether it was a nervous or happy laugh but could not. Often McCoy’s laughter was a bit of both. “Lord, I haven’t done a proper courtship in a while. Is that alright with you?”

“It is acceptable.” Spock nodded. McCoy frowned at that, and his frown deepened as Spock stood up. “If there is nothing further?”

McCoy blinked at him. “Uh, I guess not.”

“Then I will bid you good evening, Doctor.” He could hear McCoy’s incensed spluttering as he walked out of the lounge. He concentrated on keeping his steps precise and even, so as not to trip.

-

The next day, Spock received an odd communication from his mother. She had a slight frown and seemed distracted by something.

“Spock,” she said, smiling absently when she saw him.

He nodded to her image. “Mother. Are you well?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Spock, I received a very strange call from one of your shipmates that I wanted to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”

“I would not have answered if I did not anticipate having adequate free time to engage in a conversation with you.”

“Of course,” she said. “Spock, the call was from Dr. Leonard McCoy.” At that, he raised an eyebrow, and her smile grew wide. “He was asking, well. He was asking for your father and I to say whether or not it was alright for him to court you.”

Spock held very still. He had not anticipated that the Doctor would be that thorough in his courtship. “…Is Father aware of this?”

“No, he was at the office when your friend called. But I told Dr. McCoy that was really a question he should be asking you.”

“He has already asked me, Mother.”

“And? What did you say?” She appeared to be attempting to lean through the camera to get to him.

“…I said that a courtship was acceptable.”

She squealed in delight and clapped her hands together. “Oh, Spock! Tell me everything. Is he nice to you? Is he intelligent? I think you’ve mentioned him before, but you’ve always made it sound like the two of you are constantly bickering. Is this a different doctor?”

Spock drummed his fingers on the desk. “Mother, I am afraid an urgent matter has just come to my attention and I may no longer speak with you. I will contact you again when the matter is resolved.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. Her eyes were bright. “You can’t get away that easily.”

Indeed, he couldn’t, and when he could no longer postpone the call he was forced to answer all of her awkward questions. She asked one-hundred-and-twelve of them, and then called him again four hours later to ask an additional thirty-four follow up questions.

-

When Spock entered the mess hall, McCoy stood up for him. Spock nearly tripped, and he scolded himself for his lapse in discipline. Looking around it was doubtful anyone else had noticed, except for Jim who was looking up at McCoy in confusion. McCoy was smiling at him as he approached with a tray laden with food, and he pulled out a chair for him.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Spock said as he sat.

“Not a problem, Mr. Spock,” McCoy said. He sat as well and pulled his tray towards him. He kept glancing at Spock like he was expecting more, but Spock was uncertain what to say.

Jim looked back and forth between them rapidly, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ of surprise. Spock decided to ignore his Captain. Instead, he focused on his food.

-

“Will you join me tonight on a date, Spock?”

Spock looked at him. Leonard–as he had decided to call him in his head–looked hopeful. “At what time?”

“1800 hours? We could share a dinner together.”

“I am unavailable at that time,” Spock said. “I must attend to my duties in the lab.”

“Oh.” Leonard’s face fell.

“Another time, perhaps?”

“Sure. Another time.” Leonard slunk away, and Spock had the curious sensation that he had somehow hurt the human. Although he couldn’t imagine how.

He shook his head. It was not logical to dwell on what was already in the past. He went back to his work.

-

“Flowers, Mr. Spock.” Leonard presented the bouquet of small, pink flowers to Spock.

“Thank you.” Spock accepted them and held them loosely in his fist.

Leonard beamed at him. Spock had to squint slightly. “I thought we could cash in our rain check on that dinner date tonight. I’ve got a lovely table reserved in the lounge. We could chat, and catch up. I’d love to hear about your day.”

“It is unlikely I could tell you anything which you do not already know, as you were present on the bridge during 87% of my shift, and have access to my logs which cover the remaining 13%.”

Leonard’s face flattened. “It was just a suggestion,” he said through gritted teeth. “Look, I got the chef to make plomeek soup. Is that acceptable?”

Spock inclined his head. Holding the flowers was making his palm sweaty, and he hoped Leonard didn’t notice his weakness. But then he thought…sweaty? “Doctor, where did you procure these flowers?”

“Uh, from the arboretum. They’re something cultivated from Ibinas IV.”

“I see.” Spock handed them back to Leonard, who took them with a strange look on his face. “If that is the case, I am afraid dinner must be postponed again. I require your services in sickbay.” He blinked sweat from his eyes. “Vulcans suffer an immediate allergic reaction to plant life from Ibinas IV.”

“Shit.” Leonard hustled him down the corridor towards sickbay, and Spock swayed as they walked. “Come on, hurry up.” He threw the flowers aside, muttering to himself. “Of all the ridiculous, stupid ways…”

-

Spock blinked. He read the poem again. Then he read it a third time, in case he had misunderstood the first time.

He looked up at Leonard, who was smiling hugely at him. His eyebrows were waggling around as they often did.

“…This is…” Spock searched for a polite word. “…an…interesting poem.”

Leonard’s smile dropped. “Is that all you have to say?”

“Did you write it yourself?” Spock attempted to distract him.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did!” He snatched it from Spock’s hands and shoved it into his pocket.

“Your use of the AAAA rhyming structure was quite unique,” Spock offered.

Leonard threw up his hands. “Why you—” He paused and visibly controlled his temper. He lowered his hands and shoved them into his pockets. “You’re very kind,” he forced out. “I think I’m needed elsewhere.”

Spock watched him go. He replayed the poem in his mind, and smiled a little to himself.

-

“That’s it! I can’t do this anymore.”

Leonard was standing in the middle of his quarters wearing a sharply-pressed brown suit, although he had lost the tie at some point during the night. They had finally had their dinner, which Spock had enjoyed as much as he ever enjoyed anything, but which Leonard seemed to think had been a disaster.

“You cannot do what?”

“I can’t– _court_ you when you clearly find it so distasteful.” Leonard ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head sadly. He looked on the verge of tears. “If I bother you so much, why don’t you just say it? Then at least we can go back to fighting instead of this, this one-side whatever!”

Spock frowned at him. “Leonard,” he said sharply, and Leonard looked at him quickly, his eyes wide and blue. “I have found your courtship to far exceed my expectations. I have enjoyed the attention you have paid me. The gifts you have given me to demonstrate your affection are well-received. I would be disappointed if you were to discontinue your attempts to seduce me.”

Leonard gaped at him. “…attempts?” he asked after a moment.

Spock tipped his chin up. “Highly successful attempts.”

Leonard laughed weakly. “…I got you something,” he said. He walked towards his dresser and began to rummage through it. “I was going to give it to you tomorrow, and then I was going to give it to you never, but…” He pulled out a small cardboard box and handed it to Spock.

Spock opened it. It was filled with small chocolates. He raised an eyebrow in response and closed the lid. “Are you aware that chocolate causes intoxication in Vulcans?”

“I…shit. I knew there was something I was forgetting about that.” Leonard sighed deeply and held out his hand. “I don’t know why you put up with me, Spock. Here, I’ll take them back and find you something else.”

Spock unexpectedly did not wish to relinquish the chocolates. He held them to his chest. “No, I will keep them.”

Leonard looked up at him in surprise. “You will?”

“Yes.” Spock hesitated. “I also have an affectionate gesture I wish to present to you.”

“You–oh!” Leonard melted under the chaste, closed-lip kiss.

It lasted only three seconds before Spock grew embarrassed and pulled away. He attempted to quash his obscene emotional response as he gazed coolly at Leonard, who was grinning and swaying where he stood. “Is it acceptable?” Spock asked. He studied Leonard closely, as the answer could determine the direction of their relationship, which Spock very much wanted to continue.

Leonard chuckled low in his throat, the laugh that always thrilled Spock despite his tight emotional control. “Yes, it was darlin’. Do you think I could have another?”

Spock raised his brow and leaned in again, nearly toppling over as he kissed Leonard quickly. This kiss lasted 3.2 seconds, and Spock scolded himself for his inability to pull away. “The availability of future kisses will depend on the success of our courtship,” Spock said.

“Can you give me an estimation on how successful you think it will be?” Leonard’s eyes were bright. Under other circumstances, Spock would have thought he was being mocked. But Leonard was soft and warm, and incapable of mocking him right then.

“…Odds are at one-hundred percent,” Spock said, and with odds that good he couldn’t resist kissing Leonard again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On [Tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149898016015/id-love-a-prompt-with-jim-not-being-behind-a): I'd love a prompt with Jim not being behind a Spones romance at first--maybe he's afraid they won't have time for him, maybe he thinks they're incompatible-- but then he comes around when he sees how deeply they care for each other.
> 
> This chapter is Kirk's POV.

Kirk frowned at the little gaggle of ensigns, yeomen, and lieutenants clustered in the hallway. They were all surrounding Chekov, who was whispering and passing around a PADD. Kirk’s frown deepened, and he wandered into the milieu as if he had just noticed them.

“Gentlemen,” he said, nodding to everyone regardless of gender. “How go your duties?”

He saw various states of panic and the crowd dispersed like a scattershot, leaving Chekov holding the PADD with a wide-eyed look. “Captain,” he said nervously.

“Mr. Chekov,” Kirk said back. “You wouldn’t be starting up another illegal gambling circuit, would you?”

“I-I would never, sir! I was only sharing with some of my friends the…odds that certain events may occur.”

“Uh-huh. And they just happened to give you credits towards those odds? Give me the PADD, ensign.”

Chekov handed it over, clearly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Kirk said. He glanced down at the PADD and frowned. “Wait, what’s this?”

“Oh, er, uh…” Chekov cleared his throat and shuffled around. “It, uh. Might be the odds that Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy are…sleeping together. Sir.”

Wow, those were some high odds. Kirk shook his head. “Chekov, I think you need to check your facts and figures. Those two would tear each other apart before they would ever enter a relationship!”

“Of course, sir.”

“And I don’t want rumors like this on board my ship.”

“I’m very sorry, sir.”

“I mean can you imagine?” Kirk muttered, mostly to himself. “If they heard about this there would be a civil war on the Enterprise.”

Chekov cleared his throat. “May I go, sir?”

“Sure, sure.” Kirk waved him away and kept looking at the PADD, shaking his head. It was silly, he told himself. He tucked the PADD away and went back to his business.

-

Only, the idea stuck with him and he found himself watching Bones and Spock more closely over the next few days. And he didn’t like what he saw. It appeared Chekov’s odds were actually based on some pretty concrete observational data. Bones did tend to stand within six centimeters of Spock at all times. And Spock didn’t seem to mind. And sometimes they touched. Usually it was Bones lightly elbowing Spock, but once Spock had rounded on him in a fight and Kirk was sure that Spock was about to bend Bones backwards over the console–whether to strangle him or kiss him, Kirk wasn’t sure. He had still broken up the fight with a well-placed chuckle, because either way that would only end in disaster.

So now he was nervous. They still fought constantly, never seeming to agree on anything (except that Kirk was terrible at taking care of himself, but they’d always had that in common). He noted that they were spending more time together, but that didn’t put a damper on their arguments. They were in a war of inevitable attrition towards angry hate-sex, which would be terrible for both of them. Kirk knew. He’d had enough hate-sex in his life to know he should avoid it (although he never did, really).

If they gave in it would inevitably lead to breakup and broken hearts and, even worse, one of them would probably have to leave the ship.

Kirk refused to let that happen. He would just have to keep them apart.

He started scheduling more chess games with Spock, and shifted around their schedules so they were never on duty at the same time. That seemed to depress Bones, and Kirk didn’t feel too great about it either because it meant Bones could no longer come to the bridge and bother him. He started hanging out with Bones after shift as much as he could to make up for it.

Kirk managed to keep it up for several weeks. He basically followed either Bones or Spock everywhere, and everytime they came in contact with each other he distracted them. He thought he was doing pretty well for himself, because they hadn’t had a fight in almost two weeks, but then that night Bones broke out the really shitty brandy and got plastered.

“Jim, I dunno what I’m doing.” Bones had always been a talkative, melancholy drunk. “Is he avoiding me?”

“Who?”

“Spock!” He took another swig of his drink and mopped at his red eyes with one sleeve. “I haven’t seen the green-blooded nuisance in weeks! I mean, I don’t think our last fight was that bad. I thought it was going well, actually.”

This only confirmed for Kirk that he had done the right thing. “Bones, I don’t think Spock is avoiding you. Even if he were, why does it matter? You two are always fighting!”

“Yeah, but… I like fighting with him.” Bones lay back against the couch, his limbs going every which way. He sighed. “I miss him. I miss his stupid face and his damned emotional eyebrows and his smile. D’you know he smiles sometimes, Jim?”

Kirk had only seen it happen once. “Smiles…in the plural?”

“Never seen him do it anywhere where I can get proof,” Bones muttered. “Usually in the lab or something. Once he smiled at me in the mess hall–damned illogical! I know he does it just to spite me, because no one believed it when I pointed it out. He just raised his eyebrow at me like I was the crazy one. Stupid damn flirty bastard…” He trailed off, muttering.

“Bones… drink your brandy.”

-

He let Spock toss him onto the mat and he winced as he landed, failing to enter the roll correctly.

“Captain, you appear distracted.”

Kirk jumped up and rubbed his hands together. “No, no. It’s fine, Spock. Come at me again.”

Spock did so, and this time Kirk managed to concentrate for three whole throws before he got distracted. He landed funny on his arm, gasping at the sharp pain, and Spock was instantly there.

“Captain, we must get you to sickbay. Dr. McCoy—”

“No!” He winced. “It’s, it’s okay, Spock. I just need to take it easy.” He stood up and winced, rubbing at his elbow. “I think we should postpone the rest of our match for another time.”

Spock nodded to him. “Acceptable.” His dark eyes were probing for a moment. “Captain, are you certain nothing is wrong?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“I see. Perhaps instead you could inform me of your intentions towards Dr. McCoy.”

Kirk gaped at him. Spock looked… jealous? That was absurd. “What intentions? He’s my friend, nothing more.”

“Then why have you conspired to keep him from me?”

Kirk continued to gape. Spock was looking at him carefully, but he was clearly a little nervous about confronting his Captain. Kirk wondered how long it had been since Spock had noticed, and then he winced. Spock had probably noticed immediately, but had only now gotten the confidence to ask him about it. “I’m not…conspiring,” he said, even though he was. He looked around the gym. The ensigns wrestling in the corner didn’t seem to be listening, but… “Let’s talk elsewhere.”

They walked back to his quarters and he took out a towel to rub at his face as Spock stood near the door, staring at him. After a minute to steel his nerves, Kirk looked up at him.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” Kirk said.

Spock raised an eyebrow that clearly said, _most things humans say are stupid_.

Kirk sighed. “I was worried about the two of you. Before I shifted your schedules you’d been spending more time together, and the fighting had increased. I was worried it would interfere with your work.”

“If that is the case, I am sure Dr. McCoy would be as amenable as I to discuss any difficulties with you. However, I believe that the dialogue between McCoy and I only improves my work. I have… struggled, these past weeks, to perform my duty optimally.”

Kirk blinked at him. Coming from Spock that was quite the confession. “Spock do you…like Bones?”

“He is an admirable doctor and crewmate,” Spock said instantly.

“I mean, do you, you know.” He waved a hand. “Do you have feelings for him? Non-angry feelings?”

Spock stared at him. He opened his mouth and then slowly shut it. “I am unsure how to answer that question,” he said after a moment.

“…I’ll switch your shifts back,” Kirk said eventually. “Just try not to do anything stupid.”

“I do only that which is logical.”

Liar, Kirk thought, but he only smiled at his friend and patted his shoulder. “I know you do, Mr. Spock.”

-

“Doctor!” Chekov exclaimed happily. “We have not seen you in far too long!”

Bones looked positively ecstatic as he glided through the turbolift doors. He seemed to float onto the bridge. “I had to come back to make sure you all weren’t doing anything stupid up here.” He smiled at Kirk.

Kirk smiled back, unexpectedly affected by his friend’s chipper mood. “Good to have you back, Bones,” he said, deciding to ignore the fact that it had all been his fault in the first place.

“Good to be…back…” His voice trailed off as he glanced over Kirk’s head.

Kirk followed his gaze, coming up short at the sight of his first officer standing very tall. Spock’s arms were folded behind his back, but his eyes were warm as he locked gazes with Bones. Kirk could see, at the corner of his mouth, a little smile threatening. Spock appeared to barely contain it.

“Doctor,” Spock said. His voice sounded a little funny.

“Spock,” Bones said. His voice sounded a lot funny.

Kirk looked away from their intensely private moment just in time to see Sulu slip something that looked suspiciously like credits to Chekov. Chekov glanced up at him guiltily, but Kirk could only shrug. Kirk would have lost that bet, if he had been a betting man. But now even he could see that things would work out alright between his two friends. He smiled to himself and sank into his chair as Bones said something caustic and biting, and Spock returned in kind, and soon they were fighting good-naturedly above his head.

Things were back to normal.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Prompt: ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149872525455/for-a-spones-prompt-if-you-want-to-first-kiss) for a spones prompt, if you want to: first kiss? last kiss?
> 
> Chapter warnings: death

Leonard is very young, far too young to be chuckling with blank, unseeing eyes, entangling his fingers with Spock’s as he cringes, shivering. He’s too cold and Spock is wrapped around him, desperate to keep him warm against the whistling wind and snow that spikes into their little rocky shelter.

“Do you ‘member our first kiss?” Leonard asks.

Spock huddles closer. In truth, he does not remember. He places his free hand over Leonard’s eyes to try and protect them, but the frost has likely already claimed them. “Tell me about it,” he requests. His voice is flat. He will not let this affect him.

“You don’t ‘member,” Leonard teases. The sounds catch behind his chattering teeth. “Y-you didn’t even notice our first kiss…first real kiss. It was on the bridge ‘n front ‘a evr’one.”

Spock frowns. “I would not kiss you on the bridge.”

“You did. At your…l’il station…lookin’ at your blue light. I touched… your hand.”

Spock does recall this, now, with fondness. They had been dating in secret for a week, and he remembers Leonard touching him. At the time he had thought it was just the human being his usual, physical self. Now he views it differently.

“Your skin…’as… soft,” Leonard mumbles. Some of the words begin to get lost. “‘Cept fer ca…lss… and all th’ green…”

Spock wraps more tightly around him and tries to raise the Enterprise once more. There is no answer. Leonard’s mouth is still moving, but no words emerge, and so Spock places his hand on the psi points of Leonard’s face and slips into his mind. Inside it is sluggish, unfocused, but Leonard is still thinking of their first kiss. He sees himself sitting very straight in a chair. The edges of the memory are fuzzy, and he fills them in for Leonard. This was in his quarters, and he was sitting at his table. He recalls this.

Leonard is standing near him, gently touches the back of his neck. Spock recalls his own rage, but to Leonard this had been a soft moment. That had been another kiss.

_Leonard, do you find me dissatisfying?_ remembered-Spock asks.

_Never, darlin’. Why do you think that?_

Some of this is incorrect. Leonard had not called him darling. He recalls a biting comeback, but he does not fill in the blanks in Leonard’s memory this time.

_You do not kiss me._

Soft laughter, and it warms Spock. He presses closer. He can feel Leonard slipping and he grabs at him, forces the memory into stark relief in order to keep him close. Leonard takes a deep breath and holds on tight.

_I kiss you everyday!_ he laughs.

_You do not._

_I kiss you like this._ And he is all hands, fingers trailing over Spock, and Spock shivers in Leonard’s memory, although perhaps he had not really reacted that way.

_A human kiss, Leonard. I wish to kiss you in many ways._

_You can._ Breathless _. Spock, you can._

In Leonard’s memory, Spock is standing. At the moment Spock cannot recall if that is accurate. The memory is failing at the edges. Leonard loses touch, can no longer recall the feel of Spock’s hands on his waist, the burning desire in Spock’s eyes. Spock provides these for him, desperately. _Ashayam, remember!_

He remembers the way Leonard had opened to him, softened for him. He remembers Leonard moaning, Leonard shuddering, Leonard searching for more. He remembers Leonard’s lips opening, acquiescing. He remembers this, and he knows that Leonard’s memory should be different.

Leonard should be remembering a fight for dominance, a chuckle. Sharp teeth. Spock quivering. He should be remembering pushing Spock back, struggling with his clothes, biting his lips. He should be remembering.

Leonard does not remember.

Spock pulls away from the emptiness with a sharp cry. In the cold, he holds Leonard close and presses kisses to his frozen lips. Touches his motionless hands. He begs. “Please, Leonard. Please remember!”

Cries, “Please.”

Kisses him.

“Don’t leave me.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149912023990/for-the-spones-prompts-if-youre-still-doing-them) prompt: for the spones prompts if you're still doing them, Spock and bones on shore leave?

Spock took shoreleave only because Dr. McCoy threatened to relieve him of duty if he did not. He felt it was illogical to continue arguing with the Doctor when he was being so obstinate, and he decided he could get just as much work done on Risa as he could on the Enterprise. He could even get a little sun and increase his body’s production of Vitamin D, which was necessary for his human side.

He carefully unfolded a towel onto a pool-side chair and sat on it. He had chosen to wear swim trunks and a short-sleeved, unbuttoned shirt. He was also wearing a straw hat his mother had sent him, and he had put some sunscreen on his nose because it tended to burn green first. He stretched out on the chair and turned on his PADD, politely declining a drink offer from a server.

After the fourth server approached him, he accepted the drink simply so they would stop bothering him. It was a sweet and mild alcoholic drink with small wedges of yellow melon in it. He realized it must have a cocoa base about halfway through, but by that point he was already relaxed enough to finish drinking it. He ordered a second, reasoning that he was on vacation and perhaps it was logical to see what humans meant when they discussed “unwinding.” He did not feel wound up, but still the drink was tasty. He had set his PADD aside and tipped his head back and was resting his cool drink on his stomach when he heard the voice of Dr. McCoy filtering across the compound.

He peeked out from under his hat.

McCoy was rather far away, and it was only his Vulcan hearing that allowed Spock to know what was going on. There was a worker attempting to remove McCoy from the pool-side under the guise that everyone present needed at least one partner. No singles allowed. Spock frowned at the blatant falsehood. No one had attempted to remove him. The only logical explanation was that the worker was attempting to police the looks of who could and could not enter, which was truly foolish. McCoy was a good looking man, although he was mostly hidden under his long-sleeved shirt and long white pants. Spock wondered if he was perhaps too hot under all that.

Spock set his drink on the table and rose from his chair as McCoy pleaded with the worker. He strolled across the compound and up to them. McCoy looked over at him as he approached and then glanced away, only to do a double take and look again, clearly not believing what he saw. Spock arched an eyebrow at him and insinuated himself at McCoy’s side, pressing against him.

“Is this worker bothering you?” Spock asked, resting one hand at the small of McCoy’s back as he set his chin on McCoy’s shoulder. He could feel McCoy’s confusion both physically and telepathically.

The worker gaped at them. “I was just…”

“This is my partner,” McCoy said quickly. “So, as I was saying, you have no right not to let me in.”

There was a tense moment when the worker looked between them, disbelieving, but with a curt nod they were let in. Spock kept his hand on McCoy’s waist as they entered the pool area and he lead McCoy to his chair.

He sprawled out and picked up his drink again, sipping from it. McCoy stared at him incredulously for a moment, his eyes trailing over Spock’s chest and the residual condensation on his stomach, his hips barely covered by cloth, and his long legs. Spock enjoyed the examination. Eventually, McCoy sat on the chair adjacent, shaking his head.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” he said.

Spock tipped his head curiously. “Indeed? I wished to.”

McCoy blinked at him, clearly surprised. “I… it’s nice to see you’re enjoying your shoreleave.”

“I do not experience enjoyment,” he said, secretly delighting in McCoy’s eyeroll. What the human didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “However Risa is… quiet, generally. I have been able to get some reading done.”

McCoy smirked. “I suppose that’s the best I can expect, really.”

“I have attempted to test several assumptions about what makes for a relaxing human vacation.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“For example, slight intoxication as a method of relaxation.” He plucked a piece of melon from his drink and slid it into his mouth, crushing it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. McCoy was watching him do it, totally silent for perhaps the first time in his life. “It has been quite successful,” Spock said.

“So… right now you’re drunk?”

Spock shook his head. “I believe you would refer to this state as ‘tipsy.’” He basked in McCoy’s gentle chuckle as he had basked in the sun. “I have also attempted to experience the sun as a source of relaxation. It is quite warm.”

“That may be the drink.” McCoy was still smiling at him. “Have you gone swimming yet?”

“I have not.”

“I can’t wait to get into the pool.” McCoy looked over at it, eyes longing. When he turned back to Spock he still had the same look on his face. “Would you mind?”

Spock gestured for him to go. “You are free to experience shoreleave as you see fit. However, you are not exactly dressed for a swim.”

“I wasn’t going to walk around half naked,” McCoy groused, but then he looked at Spock with a slight frown of consideration.

“It is not an unpleasant state,” Spock said.

That seemed to startle McCoy, and he stood up to slip his shirt off, hiding his pink face behind the fabric. Spock watched him do it, enjoying the planes of skin and muscle that he exposed despite the fact that Vulcans do not enjoy things. He found McCoy to be aesthetically pleasing, his movements graceful and fluid as he kicked off his sandals and opened his pants, shimmying out of them. Then he stood in only his swim trunks, looking down at Spock with a slight blush.

“After—” McCoy paused and cleared his throat. “After I go for a dip, do you want to check out some of the sights of Risa? A little sight-seeing would make this a truly human vacation.”

Spock considered him. He let his gaze linger over McCoy, over the little divots of his hips, his enticingly knobby knees, his blunt fingers. “I believe I am already viewing the most pleasant sight available on Risa.”

McCoy flushed all over and turned away, coughing and smiling. “Spock, you flatter me.”

“I do not exaggerate,” Spock said softly.

He could see McCoy bite his lip, and when the human turned back to him he was still smiling brightly. “I’m going to hop in. Do you want to join me?”

“I am a poor swimmer,” Spock said. “If you do not mind…I would rather watch?”

McCoy clearly did not mind, and as he turned he had a little bounce in his step and a wiggle in his hips that Spock found distracted him even more acutely than his drink had. He watched McCoy slip into the cool water, the muscles of his arms bunching to support his weight on the edge of the pool, his mouth forming a little gasp of surprise at the chill of the water. He dove down and came up with water running off of his hair, his shoulders, his chest. He sloughed it off, hands rough on his pale skin. He was lovely.

Spock decided to forgo a third drink. He wished to be in possession of all his faculties during his continued flirtation with Dr. McCoy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149915937525/bones-gets-spock-totally-smashed-on-chocolate) prompt: Bones gets Spock totally smashed on chocolate

Spock would do pretty much anything if you told him it was for science.

Like, he would show up at McCoy’s quarters after shift at six o’clock in the evening, still slightly rumpled from work, with the only intention of getting shit-faced drunk off chocolate. He even brought a PADD to take notes on.

McCoy scoffed at the PADD, but still ushered Spock in to sit down. “Alrighty, Spock. I’ve got all the fixins for you. We’ve got truffles, coco squares, that gross baking chocolate. We’ve got white chocolate, milk chocolate, and this stuff which has some mint in it. I thought it might be like catnip, might help you get stoned.”

Spock eyed the arrangement of chocolates and made a few notes on his PADD. “Logical. It will be necessary to test my physiological reactions to a variety of chocolates.”

“Sure it is,” McCoy said. He bustled behind his desk and pulled out a fine bottle of whisky he had been saving. “And meanwhile, I’ll be drinking this.”

Spock frowned. “Doctor, I had assumed we would be making observations in a safe, controlled environment. If you are also inebriated it places us at greater risk.”

“I’ve got a detoxification hypo here,” McCoy said, waggling it. “It won’t work for you…probably… but it will work for me. And I can’t let you drink alone. At the very least you need a control.”

“A control.” Spock seemed to doubt him.

“To compare. I’ll take a drink for every chocolate you eat, and we can see what stage of drunk you’re at.”

“Hmm.” Spock pursed his lips. “A more exact control would, of course, involve finding another half-Vulcan. As this is not likely to occur, you may act as a proxy control.”

McCoy beamed at him. “Great!” He poured himself a flat ounce of drink. “Now, pick your poison and let’s get to it.”

Spock examined the chocolates closely as McCoy fidgeted. He kept consulting his PADD and making notes. Eventually, he picked up a one-ounce square of 60% coco and eyed it. He made another note on his PADD.

“For Christ’s sake, Spock. Just eat it!”

Spock nibbled at the corner. “It is inoffensive,” he said, and ate the whole thing. He swallowed roughly and sat there. “I do not feel any different.”

“It’s only been a few seconds.” McCoy had already downed his drink and poured himself another. He was definitely going to need some liquid courage to get through the night. “You’ll have to wait longer than that.”

They chatted for a bit about work, and about Jim, and about space in general. After ten minutes, when he still didn’t feel any different, Spock ate a square of milk chocolate and made a note on his PADD. They chatted more and McCoy was beginning to feel a little warm, and he was beginning to despair that Spock was incapable of getting drunk. He figured Spock had missed out on both human-drunkenness and Vulcan-drunkenness. But then Spock ate a square of baking chocolate and soon his eyes were wide and liquid, and he seemed to have trouble looking at McCoy clearly.

“Doctor, I have lost feeling in my fingertips.” He looked at his hands curiously.

“That’s great! That’s one of the first signs. Do you feel warmer?”

“I… do. However, I know that in fact my body temperature has dropped by .02 degrees.”

McCoy laughed and sipped his drink. “You’re not drunk enough yet if you can still make calculations like that.”

Since the baking chocolate seemed to be the only thing that worked, Spock ate some more of that. He was still making notes on his PADD but now McCoy noticed that he was having trouble. He had to delete more words than he wrote, and he frowned at it.

“This is unexpectedly difficult,” he said.

“Feeling dizzy?”

Spock nodded, and swayed in his chair. “I have become incapable of spelling.”

“Here, let me help.” He took the PADD from Spock, but instead of writing on it he just set it aside. “There. Fixed your problem.”

“That is not… fixed. I assumed you would write in my stead.”

“Yeah, but I’m drunk too, remember?”

“Logical.” Spock could have been nodding, or maybe he was swaying. He picked up another square of baking chocolate and nibbled on it. “This substance is quite bitter.”

“Yeah, that stuff is garbage. It’s only good if you mix it with about a pound of sugar.”

“That is not healthy.” The square had disappeared into his mouth.

“No,” McCoy laughed. “Whoever said humans were healthy?”

Spock smiled at him, and McCoy actually jumped at the sight, smacking his knee against the table. “Humans take extremely poor care of themselves.” Then he touched his face, the curve of his smile. “My inhibitions seem to be lowered.”

“That’s the perfect stage right there. Most humans go their whole lives trying to stay slightly uninhibited without getting trashed.”

“What does ‘trashed’ feel like?”

“It’s pretty uncomfortable. Usually you end up barfing all over everything and blacking out.” He watched Spock eat another square, concerned. “I think we should wait until at least your second night drinking before we got that far.”

Spock shook his head. “I wish to experience all stages of intoxication tonight, this evening.”

“Spock, hold on.” He reached out and stilled Spock’s hands. “There’s no rush. Just sit with this for a while. You like the feeling?” Spock tilted his head at him, and McCoy laughed. “I mean, you find it agreeable? Then let’s try and maintain it. See if you can stay at this level without pushing too far.”

“Logical. You are quite logical, Doctor, when you want to be.”

“No need for insults.” He patted Spock on the hand and picked up his drink again, sipping from it. “I’ve just been around the block a few times. Getting sick your first time is a surefire way to ruin drinking for the rest of your life. Not that it stopped me, of course.”

“You were ill during your first drinking experience?”

“I drank twelve shots in an hour. I was aiming for eighteen, but thankfully I threw up and got kicked out of the bar before I could kill myself. I almost gave myself alcohol poisoning.”

“What is the significance of the number eighteen?”

“That’s the legal drinking age on Earth, now. Dumb kids like me celebrate by trying to hit that number on their eighteenth birthday.”

Spock nod-swayed again. He had picked up another square, but was only nibbling on it and so McCoy let him be. “Are there other unwise decisions you would encourage me to avoid?”

“Mm,” McCoy hummed. He was starting to feel pretty relaxed now in his warm quarters, with Spock just staring at him. Normally he found that stare damned disconcerting, but at the moment he enjoyed it. “Well, now that we know how to get you drunk, you should try it next time we go off ship. Scotty and Jim’d get a kick out of that, I’m sure. Just don’t get so classy you go home with a stranger and you’ll be fine.”

“I see. I should instead attempt to copulate with a friend?”

“Uh,” McCoy spluttered. “I didn’t say that.” Spock was smiling warmly at him, and McCoy realized he was teasing. He laughed and shook his head. “Hey, I’m trying to be helpful here!”

“You are very helpful, Doctor. You are my illogical, helpful friend.” Spock sighed. His little square of chocolate was only a corner now, and he set it down. “…Why do I feel sad?”

“Sometimes that happens,” McCoy said softly.

“These emotions are…unpleasant. I wish to return to the emotions I experienced during the first half of our evening.”

“What were those? Maybe remembering them will help.”

“Logical. I was calmer. I enjoyed our conversation.”

“You don’t enjoy it now?”

“I do. I merely… I had a different, a different…” He seemed to be struggling to find the right words as he squinted at McCoy. “It was different to think… Doctor, you are quite relaxed now, are you not?”

“Uh, sure I am.”

“Would you hold my hand again?”

McCoy blinked, but he did sit up in his chair and reach across the table. Spock coiled one hand around his tightly, rubbing the back of his knuckles with his thumb. He seemed to relax at the contact. “Spock, is everything okay?”

“I have lost sensation in my fingers,” Spock said quietly. “For a Vulcan this is like losing eyesight, or hearing. I grew concerned that I could no longer use my telepathy. But,” he sighed happily. “You are here. I can feel you. It is difficult to concentrate, but I feel you.”

McCoy gripped him back. “Yeah, I’m right here, Spock.”

Spock’s eyes fluttered shut. He carefully raised McCoy’s hands to his mouth and just held him there, lips resting lightly against his fingers. He sighed again.

“…Spock…”

Spock kissed the back of his fingers and drew McCoy’s hand up further, so that McCoy was cupping the side of his face and, well, that was a swell idea, so McCoy held up his other hand, and Spock took that one, too. He held Spock’s face in his hands and slid from his chair, moving between Spock’s legs.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” he said, but he was also confused.

“My inhibitions are lowered, Doctor. But they are not absent. Please kiss me. It need not go further tonight.”

McCoy shivered at the implication that it could go further the next night, or the night after. That there would be more nights like this. He leaned in and brushed their lips together, tasting Spock’s soft and gentle sigh, tinged with bitter chocolate. After a moment he pulled back to ask, “How are you feeling now?”

“Still warm,” Spock said. He had closed his eyes, but now he opened them to gaze up at McCoy. “I have enjoyed this experiment, Leonard. Would you be amenable to conducting more in the future?”

McCoy laughed and brushed his thumb over the line of Spock’s cheek. “Of course,” he said. “After all, we still don’t know if mint’ll get you stoned or not.” At Spock’s raised eyebrow he chuckled again, and leaned down to kiss the question from Spock’s lips.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On [ Tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149936081915/bones-is-being-presented-to-spocks-family-as-his): Bones is being presented to spock's family as his mate, and dinner awkwardness ensues

It had been a year since Spock had whoops-accidentally gone into heat and had whoops-accidentally fake-killed Jim and had whoops-accidentally needed to bond with someone and had whoops-accidentally fallen into bed with McCoy, who felt that he whole thing was going pretty well, actually.

Spock seemed to think so as well, because when they approached Vulcan the next time he suggested that McCoy meet his family. Spock wanted to introduce him as his mate. McCoy had been surprised, but amenable. He expected a small, tense dinner with Amanda and Sarek. He remembered talking to them during their journey to Babel. Amanda had been kind, and Sarek at least hadn’t been outright dickish. Being introduced as Spock’s mate would probably come as no surprise to them, especially after Sarek had accidentally woken up to McCoy kissing the living daylights out of Spock in sickbay after his surgery.

He was surprised when they beamed down and it wasn’t small at all.

Well, first he was surprised because they beamed down to the bottom of a huge gorge and had to hike their way up about 70,000 stairs (only 6,812, as Spock said). He’d gotten winded after the first flight, and Spock had carried him on his back the rest of the way. He took the opportunity to sweat and complain all over his boyfriend, and Spock was looking a little tight-lipped by the time they made it to the top.

Amanda was there in a tiny, dry garden tending some plants in front of an equally tiny house that nonetheless looked ancient. She smiled at them and waved, and then Sarek came out of the house, followed by a string of other Vulcans.

McCoy blinked as Spock set him down. “Ambassador,” he greeted, proudly doing the Vulcan salute this time. He’d been practicing.

The Ambassador nodded to him and returned the salute. “Doctor.”

“These are the rest of my family,” Spock said. He introduced T’pau, who McCoy recognized, and her husband who was very old and very tiny, and then weirdly T’Pring and Stonn were there with a baby. He nodded at the baby, who looked at him disapprovingly. He met some of Spock’s cousins and second-cousins, and an uncle and aunt, and then the groundskeeper, and a distant godfather. They held up a little picture of Sarek’s ex-wife, and Spock said that unfortunately his brother couldn’t attend, but had instead sent a token of his interest. It was a wet paper bag with a half a lemon in it.

McCoy was feeling a little gobsmacked by the time Amanda dusted off her dress and walked up to throw her arms around him. “Just hang on,” she whispered as all the Vulcans recoiled from their blatant emotionalism, except for Spock who just stood there.

The lot of them crammed around a tiny table, all sitting hip-to-hip and kneeling on little pads, to eat. The food was bland and lukewarm and the talk was rather stilted, being mostly half-hearted attempts to enquire about McCoy’s expertise. What did he do all day, as a doctor? Did he make a good living? He had the distinct impression that he was being tested and found wanting.

Eventually, T’pau, who had been mostly silent, asked what they clearly all wanted to know, “When will I be performing the marriage ceremony between thee?”

McCoy was pretty sure that was the wrong use of “thee,” but whatever. She was old and famous, and could get away with a lot. Before he could say anything Spock spoke over him.

“It is not necessary. The Doctor and I are already bonded.”

Her face crinkled even further. “Has thee forsaken more of our ways? Thy path has taken thee away from thy Vulcan heritage.”

“It is not logical,” Sarek cut in, looking distinctly annoyed as if he had had this precise argument a dozen times. “To cling to ancient ways which have no modern significance.”

McCoy gaped at him. Apparently Sarek felt that only he could belittle Spock for not being Vulcan enough. Anyone else doing it would get attacked.

“So it has been from the time of the beginning, so it shall always be. That is the Vulcan way.” She turned to McCoy. “Does thee not intend to remain faithful?”

“I do, ma’am. Er, I do intend to remain faithful. I don’t not intend to remain faithful.” He paused to get his head on straight. “We just haven’t talked about marriage much.”

“And I from this I may infer,” T’pring cut in, bitingly. “That children have also not been discussed?” Her baby glared at him again.

“Oh, they would have such illogical children,” the groundskeeper bemoaned.

“This conversation serves no purpose,” Spock said, but he shot McCoy a look that clearly said they would talk about it later. McCoy grimaced.

“In everything there is a purpose,” Sarek argued back, and whose side was he on, anyway?

Amanda stood suddenly. “I must make the evening tea. Doctor, will you join me? I will instruct you, as it will one day be your duty. Since we have already accepted you as our son.” She said it happily enough, but also stiffly so all the Vulcans around the table went silent, deferring to her. If Amanda accepted him, apparently they did, too.

“I’d love to help,” McCoy said, jumping up and practically running into the kitchen.

The kitchen was actually outside, and McCoy stood near Amanda as she pumped water from a well. “It’s alright, you know,” she said to him with a small smile. “They’re just testing you. They really want what’s best for Spock.”

“Still damned awkward.”

She laughed, and it was good to hear. “I know. It was just the same when Sarek brought me home the first time.”

“Well, at least you didn’t have to meet his ex-wife.” She smiled knowingly at him and he gaped. “You did?”

“They were still married, at the time.”

His gaping grew, but before he could pry she handed him a bucket of water and shooed him back into the house. The Vulcans were all now talking about something else–crop yields, apparently–and so McCoy set the bucket down and plopped on the cushion next to Spock. Spock looked at him fondly and held out two fingers.

McCoy gave him a quick kiss, hoping Spock wouldn’t notice how freaked out he was, but Spock frowned at the touch. McCoy just shrugged and picked up an apple-looking thing and bit into it.

Later, when dinner was over and everyone was just sort of milling around in the Vulcan equivalent of a long goodbye, T’pau cornered him in the one hallway. She was very short, but he still withered under her gaze. “Thee must do what thee believe is right,” she said. “I will await thee, when the time comes.”

“Thanks?” he said.

“Thanks are not necessary.” She raised her hand. “Live long, and prosper.”

Spock found him still standing there, gobsmacked, and gently got him to bed.

“Does she like me?” McCoy asked rhetorically. “Does she like you?”

“Does she like anyone?” Spock returned.

“At least your mom likes me, right?”

Spock gave one of his tiny smiles, looking inordinately pleased. “Then the dinner has been a success.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On [ Tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149939596950/are-you-still-doing-spones-prompts-may-i-request): Spock and Bones (established relationship) arguing and Bones yelling he loves Spock accidentally and Spock is shocked because he hasn't said that before
> 
> also: happy 50th anniversary Star Trek!! *fanfare* My gift to you is love :D

McCoy had learned a lot about Spock in the past two years.

Before, he would have said that he knew Spock perfectly fine, thanks, and that there really wasn’t much to know about him beyond “computer with admittedly nice legs” and “walking box of contradictions.” After they had started dating, however, he started to learn that Spock was rather more complex. He learned about the mood swings that Spock would vehemently deny, he learned that Spock appreciated small gestures of affection over large ones, he learned that Spock was still intensely private about their relationship, he learned that Spock was pretty poor at physical intimacy beyond sex, and he learned about the little spot on the back of Spock’s neck that always made him melt when McCoy touched it.

He also learned he was in love with Spock.

Now, maybe this should have been obvious–after all, why date someone for so long if you didn’t love them? But it had truly caught McCoy by surprise. He had assumed his cold heart was too stiff and unwieldy from a lifetime of pain to allow any new love in. It had actually scared him a bit when he realized it, because with love came the potential for pain.

He could pinpoint the exact moment he had realized it, although of course the feelings had been growing long before. It had been six months ago. He had been sitting in their shared quarters sipping a coffee and reading an ancient medical mystery. He remembers that clearly. He had looked up from the couch to where Spock was sitting at the table. Spock had been in his pajamas, with one hand on his hip, the other elbow on the table to support his head as he stared down at a series of equations. His hair had been a little mussed, and there had been a mottled green hickie peeking out from under his shirt collar. McCoy had watched him, reveling in the fond feelings that steadily grew, and as Spock had let out a little sigh and switched to a new equation, McCoy had realized that he was in too deep.

Because he could never let Spock know. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he could never tell Spock. He only knew that if Spock ever found out, he would leave him. Vulcans didn’t cotton to love, and even the relatively open Spock would have to say no to such blatant emotionalism.

So he’d kept it a secret.

It gnawed at him, though. Every time he looked at Spock or touched him or thought about him he imagined the words clearly. _I love you_. It physically hurt him not to say. He started picking real fights, not just their debates and arguments, because at least when Spock walked out of the room and he was riding high on adrenaline he could forget, for a moment, that he wasn’t allowed to love.

He had picked a fight now.

What it was about didn’t matter. What mattered was the tone, the violence of it. The way he was spitting mad and Spock was utterly stone-faced. What mattered was he was driving Spock away and he knew it. Driving him to stand there, straight as a board, while McCoy roamed around their quarters knocking into things and flailing.

What mattered was Spock said, “I do not know why I continue to allow this behavior from you.”

What mattered was McCoy _heard_ , “I don’t know why I put up with you,” and he thought that meant _goodbye_.

He was furious, all adrenaline and misplaced rage and his hands were twitching and so he folded his arms angrily and spat out, “I love you!”

And he had to close his eyes in defeat at his own stupid words.

Spock was silent for a beat, and McCoy jerked away, turned to lean heavily against the table.

“I, I’m sorry, Spock. I didn’t mean to get all emotional on you. Can we just…forget I said that. I, I take it back, if that’s what you need. I know you don’t want to hear it.”

He felt Spock’s hand on his arm. “Say it again.”

McCoy turned towards him, eyes downcast. “I’m sorry?”

“No,” Spock said. He was using his Commander Spock voice, but there was a little quiver in it, a note of confusion and desperation that forced McCoy to meet his liquid gaze. “Tell me again.”

“I… love you.”

Spock seemed to collapse against him, and he stumbled. He managed to hold Spock up through the tightest hug he had ever received. He’d never known Spock to be affectionate like this–normally he eschewed physical contact when it was unnecessary, but then again he was a series of contradictions.

“I did not think…” Spock began. He hesitated. “I had hoped it was true, assumed it was true, but I could not trust…” He pulled away to blink at McCoy. “I apologize. Your words have affected me in ways I was not prepared for.”

McCoy touched his face. “I thought… you would be upset?”

Spock frowned with his eyebrows. “That would not be a logical reaction to such a confession.”

“But you hate it when I get too emotional.”

Spock’s lips twitched. “I have never, and could never, hate anything which you do. You are my Ashayam, my beloved. I love you with the entirety of my being.”

The words struck him to the core, and it was his turn to fall into Spock, to be held up by Spock’s strong grip. “I do, you know?” he whispered fiercely against Spock’s neck.

Spock took a deep, shaky breath. “Please, tell me again.”

He laughed, giddy. “I love you. Can I say it again? I love you.”

“Say it often,” Spock said. He kissed the side of McCoy’s face and McCoy turned into it, kissing him back. “It is… gratifying to hear.”

McCoy kissed him again, feeling like his heart might burst from his chest. “Damned contradictory Vulcan…” He smiled. “I still love you.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On [ Tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/149950197400/how-about-jocelyn-and-leonard-repair-their-rift): How about Jocelyn and Leonard repair their rift and become friends again, and when Jocelyn learns about his relationship with Spock, she decides to pull Spock aside to warn him against hurting Leonard. How Spock handles it is up to you :):)

“Daddy!”

Jocelyn smiled as Joanna skipped across the shuttle lot and launched herself into Leonard’s arms. He caught her, nearly stumbling under her weight, and swung her around. At ten she would have been heavier than he would have remembered. The last time he’d held her like that, she’d been only four.

She enjoyed seeing Leonard happy now, although it was tinged with melancholy. She’d seen all his moods. She had seen him at his happiest, in a trim black suit with a red rose boutonniere, smiling hugely at her as they were showered with rice. She’d seen him at his worst in the wake of his father’s death, and then she’d seen him spiraling as she pulled away. Jocelyn knew she had helped put him in one of his worst bad spots, and it saddened her. She wondered sometimes if Leonard regretted it.

She watched as Leonard twisted Joanna around to introduce her to Mr. Spock. No, Jocelyn thought, probably he didn’t regret where he was today. Without that low he wouldn’t have had this new rise, this new kind of happiness with Spock. Jocelyn had listened, smiling, to him talk about Spock for months leading up to their visit to Earth. Spock made him happy, and that worried Jocelyn. She knew how transient happiness was for Leonard.

Spock carefully shook Joanna’s hand and then folded his arms behind his back.

Leonard was still all smiles as he walked over to where she was leaning against the shuttlecar. “Thank you for meeting us way out here. I’m sorry we couldn’t just beam closer.”

“It’s no problem.” She smiled at them and then stuck out her hand. “You must be Spock? I’m Jocelyn.”

He gripped her for just a moment. “Greetings,” he said flatly.

She found that a little odd, but apparently Leonard didn’t notice. Joanna was trying to pull him away to go exploring–she’d recently taken a liking to bugs, and wanted to see if they could find any. “You two go on ahead. I’ll move Joanna’s things over to your car. Spock, could you give me a hand?”

He nodded with his hands still folded behind his back and Leonard gave them a grateful look before letting Joanna tug him towards the grass.

“Which items are Joanna’s?” Spock asked.

“Pretty much everything. She never travels light.”

Spock followed her into the shuttlecar and helped her with the half-dozen suitcases that Joanna had insisted on packing. She had essentially packed her entire room, wanting to show her father everything he had missed being in space. Spock lifted one suitcase and raised an eyebrow.

“This is quite heavy. You carried this yourself?”

“I think it has Joanna’s rock collection in it.”

Spock looked intrigued. “Indeed? I look forward to discussing items of geological interest with her.”

“She’ll chew your ear off about it.” She winced. “Sorry, is that rude?”

Spock looked at her flatly, and she couldn’t tell if he was upset or if he was… anything. “It is not. Your concern is not warranted.”

“… I actually wanted to talk to you.” She began dragging one of the suitcases towards the shuttlecar Leonard had flown. “About your relationship with Leonard.”

“My relationship?”

“See, that’s the kind of stuff I mean.” She pointed at him. “You’re very… blase about everything. Don’t play coy with Leonard’s heart.” His eyebrow arched a little higher. “I wanted to tell you that even though I, that we were both horrible to each other, that I still care about him. He’s my friend, and I don’t want you to hurt him.”

“You are quite familiar with causing Leonard harm.”

She hissed at the sting of his words. “I, I suppose I am. That was so many years ago. We’re both different people now and maybe… maybe not entirely for the better. Leonard used to be very trusting, and I don’t think he is anymore. If he’s trusting you enough to let him into his life to this degree—” she gestured at the field where Joanna and Leonard were crawling on hands and knees, combing through the grass. “–then please don’t do anything to hurt him.”

Spock gazed at her steadily. “…I must admit,” he said after a moment. “That my initial reaction to your words is scorn. It is… not logical that I should wish you harm over something which was done, as you say, so many years ago. Yet I do. I apologize.”

She blinked at him. “I think…that’s okay. If he’s told you even half the stuff I said and did to him, of course you would feel that way. That’s why I want you to avoid making my same mistakes.”

“As you are an expert in these matters, I will take any advice you give me under consideration.”

At first, Jocelyn thought he was still trying to hurt her, but then she looked more closely. He seemed honest enough, with his mouth in a flat little line and his brow pinched together. He did look like the kind of man–Vulcan–who would do his best. She had to smile at that.

“Well, I can tell you a lot of what not to do…”

They talked as they loaded the rest of the bags onto the shuttlecar, and then as they stood beside her car. Her feet were getting sore from standing, and her voice was rough from speaking, when Joanna and Leonard finally returned. Joanna was carrying a huge, squirming worm in her muddy hands, and she held it up triumphantly.

“Look at what I caught!”

“Ah,” Spock said, holding out his hand for the prize. “Lumbricus terrestris. A fine specimen.”

“You know stuff about bugs?” she asked, half-suspicious and half-enthralled.

“Yes. I would be glad to share this information with you.”

“Here, come look at this other beetle we found.” She grabbed his sleeve and dragged him away. He cast one look over his shoulder at Leonard, who was smothering a smile in his hand.

“Sorry for leaving the two of you alone for so long,” he said to her.

She wondered if it was her imagination that convinced her that his smile wasn’t as bright as it would have been seven years ago. “It’s no problem. Your Mr. Spock and I had a lot to talk about.”

“Oh?” He raised his eyebrow and she laughed. “What? What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” She giggled. “Well, it’s just that you always used to raise your other eyebrow when you thought something was fishy. And now, you raise the same one that Mr. Spock does!”

He looked aghast, and vaguely insulted. He puffed up like a cat and she had to laugh again. “I don’t, do I?”

“You do!” The sight of him forcibly controlling his wayward brow sent her into another peal of laughter. She wiped a tear from her eye and decided that maybe things would be alright after all. “You really, really do.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On [ Tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/150088034025/spones-space-pirates-please-and-thank-you-very) Spones: Space Pirates. Please and thank you very much!

McCoy rode the solar sail over the eddy of starlight and down, down, as fast as he could push it and faster. So fast he worried he wouldn’t be able to pull out of the spiral and it was terrifying, _terrifying_ , and exhilarating as he dove.

Spock twisted behind him, tying the rigging tight to his leg, and then he was up on the railing reaching one hand and even McCoy could see that he wouldn’t make it in time so Spock _jumped_ and the rope caught him, slithering down his leg and shucking off his boot as Spock _reached_!

The dull slap of flesh, and they had him.

“Woo-hoo!” McCoy shouted, exhilarated, as Spock yanked Jim back into the solar sailship. The two of them collapsed on the deck and McCoy twisted the sail around, riding the wave of light up and back towards the Enterprise, their mission. “You alright, Jim?”

“Fine,” he said, already jumping up. “Get us back up there quick, Bones. The crew needs backup.”

“I’m flying as fast as I can,” McCoy muttered, but he did try to push it faster.

Behind them, Spock tried to stand up only to pitch forward with a cry. In a flash Jim was manning the sail and McCoy knelt beside the first mate.

“I am fine,” Spock said through gritted teeth, sweat popping onto his brow.

“Like hell you are.” McCoy could already see the problem in the unnatural bend of Spock’s foot, dislocated or broken by the rope.

“We must not endanger the mission.” Spock attempted to stand again and McCoy shoved him down.

“Hold still, you damned idiot!”

“Do we need to fall back?” Jim asked, casting a worried glance at them. “We can regroup and hit them hard later.”

“We will not have another opportunity to take the Enterprise,” Spock said. “We have the element of surprise and they are still at half-crew.”

“He’s right, Jim, we can’t turn back now. This is the haul of a lifetime! The Federation will lose their flagship and we gain more dilithium than we know what to do with!”

“But Spock—”

“It’s just dislocated. I can fix him up and have him in fighting shape in just a few minutes.”

“Alright.” They were back over the deck of the Enterprise now, and McCoy could hear the clang of sword-steel against sword-steel below. Sulu was likely making a mockery of the Enterprise’s defense forces. Jim clambered his way onto the railing of their solar sailship and nodded back. “Do what you can, Bones. And maybe give him a little song?” He waggled his eyebrows and tipped over the edge.

“Damn backseat doctors always trying to tell me how to practice medicine…” McCoy grumbled. He turned his attention back to Spock, who was still breathing heavily through the pain. “Here, just hold still.”

He unwound the rope and inspected the injury. It was a bad dislocation, but nothing appeared broken. He would still have to set the joint, and that would be painful. He gently cupped Spock’s twisted heel in his hand and looked up at the Vulcan, who was eyeing him steadily, although he was still panting.

“Would you like a little song, just to take the edge off?”

“I am capable of withstanding the pain.”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “I know that. The point is you don’t have to. There’s no need for your damn stoic Vulcan routine.”

“It is…shameful to reveal that portion of myself.”

“Spock, it’s just you and me.” When Spock still hesitated, McCoy rested his hand on his other leg and leaned up, kissing Spock softly on his cheek. “And you know I love to sing for you.”

“…Very well.”

He settled back and picked a gentle song. There was a soft ballad he knew that wouldn’t confuse Spock too much, but would take the edge off his pain. He let the words drip from his mouth in a sticky-sweet baritone, curled them around Spock’s injury to relieve it and then up, twisting the music against his skin and sliding it delicate and slick into those pointed ears of his. Spock’s eyes unfocused as he sang, and soon he was breathing hard out of euphoria instead of pain.

McCoy quickly set the joint, and Spock jerked in surprise and arousal.

“Leonard,” he breathed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “I know. I’m the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. Let me take care of you first.”

“I would very much like for you to ‘take care’ of me.”

He chuckled. “I bet you would.”

McCoy took out some bandages and quickly wrapped Spock’s ankle. Spock hissed each time their skin made contact, and McCoy had barely enough time to tie off the bandage before Spock yanked him up and crashed their lips together.

He let himself open for Spock, kissing him on the deck of their solar sailship as the battle waged below them. He had to pull back too soon, and Spock blinked up at him with a vacant gaze.

“Hey, we have to get down there,” McCoy said softly.

“I know.” Spock sat up. “For how long will the effects of your song remain?”

“The arousal should already be wearing off.” At Spock’s nod, he went on. “The euphoria and lack of pain should last another two hours. Enough time for us to take the ship.”

Spock seemed disappointed. He ran his fingers over McCoy’s stubbled cheek. “…Too little time. It will have worn off long before we have finished celebrating.”

“Yeah,” McCoy whispered. “You’ll just have to find me later. I’ll be holed up in my new quarters, asleep on a bed of dilithium crystals. I’ll sing you a new song, Spock. One that’ll have your heart beating in your side and your hands itching to touch me. One that’ll make you all mine. Would you like that?”

“Yes.” Spock shivered and kissed him again. “I will find you.”

McCoy grinned and stood up, helping Spock to his feet as well. Spock tested his weight on his injured foot and nodded.

“A satisfactory job, Doctor.”

“You bet your sweet ass it is. Now let’s go.”

They tangled their fingers together and climbed over the railing of their solar sailship, tumbling down into the fray below.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On [ tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/150412695315/bones-is-walking-along-while-on-a-mission-when-he): Bones is walking along while on a mission when he trips. He doesn't fall but does a handspring, landing on his feet. Bones never did tell anyone that he did gymnastics in college.

Spock could not believe his eyes.

He seldom had reason to doubt his senses. He was still young and age had not clouded his vision. He had recovered completely from his inner-eyelid mishap. His eyesight was usually confirmed by his scanners and tricorder. 

Yet, it was the best explanation for what he had just witnessed.

Dr. McCoy, walking along the flat landscape of M-X-189B, had tripped over a stick. Rather than falling, he had rolled forward and done a handspring, flying through the air and landing with a graceful bounce. Spock had been watching him through it all, and now he stared as McCoy looked around as if to check no one had been watching.

His eyes fell to Spock, and the human winced. “Haha, funny, that,” he said. “What’re the chances?” 

Prior to witnessing the event, Spock would have put the chances of McCoy executing a successful handspring at around 2.54%. After, he estimated that McCoy could perform such a maneuver with 98.8% accuracy given ideal conditions.

“I was not aware that Starfleet physical training taught handsprings.”

McCoy pursed his lips. “…They don’t.”

Spock raised his eyebrow to signal his disbelief. “You were quite proficient.”

McCoy sighed deeply and walked over to Spock. Spock found himself watching the human’s movements closely, fascinated by the coiled grace he had not noticed before. “I was in gymnastics all throughout school,” he said. “Could you… keep it under wraps?”

Spock raised a second eyebrow. “You wish for me to refrain from discussing your maneuver with the crew? Although I had not planned to do so, I am now curious why you would wish to hide such a thing.”

McCoy groaned and shuffled around. Spock put away his tricorder to devote his full attention to the human.

“It’s just,” McCoy said after a moment. “I know Jim would tease me for it. He already calls be ‘Bouncing Bones’ every time I roll up on my toes.”

“I see,” Spock said, although he did not. He wished Vulcans had evolved with a third eyebrow, as it would have been useful at that moment. “Very well, Doctor, I will keep your secret.”

“Thank you.” McCoy relaxed.

“However…”

McCoy glared at him. “What? Now there are stipulations?”

Spock organized his thoughts. “Your gymnastic capabilities prevented you from injuring yourself when you lost your footing.”

“Yeah?”

“I… often find that it is… difficult to maintain my footing under typical Class M gravitational forces. On Vulcan, gravity is at 1.41 of Class M norm.”

“You are kinda awkward sometimes.” McCoy was smiling at him, and Spock chose to interpret it as good-natured ribbing rather than as mockery.

“Would you be available to teach me the technique which you just demonstrated?” It was logical for him to ask this, he knew, and yet McCoy was looking at him very oddly.

“You want me to teach you gymnastics?”

“If you feel your skills are enough,” Spock goaded.

McCoy bounced on his heels in a huff. “You’re damn right they’re enough. Yeah, I’ll teach you, Spock. As soon as we get back to the ship. You’ll be the most graceful damned Vulcan to ever sail the stars.”

Spock nodded. “Your expertise is appreciated, Doctor.”

McCoy walked away, muttering to himself as he often did. Spock watched him leave and then took out his tricorder again. He found that he was… interested in observing Dr. McCoy practice gymnastics. He was curious about the Doctor’s flexibility.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On [tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/150739321115/if-youre-still-writing-spones-mccoy-taking): if you're still writing spones - McCoy taking Spock to the good old country fair with dancing and eating and stuff

The fair smelled of oils and fry bread, freshly mowed hay and stale straw, dirt and animal sweat, sweet spun sugar and bitter beers, and of humans crammed together happily enjoying the day. Spock could hear an odd musical sound far off, and the repetitive sound of clapping and dancing. Perhaps it was the sound of cowboy boots, like Leonard’s, against a wooden floor.

The crowd was somewhat oppressive, and Spock kept his hands folded neatly in front of him as Leonard maneuvered them along.

“Oh, we’ve got to take a look at the animals,” Leonard said. He had acquired a smile the moment they had stepped foot into the fair, and it had not wavered since. “Have you ever seen a cow before?”

“I have not,” Spock said mildly. There was a child staring at him beside a ring toss game. The child clutched at the skirt of his mother with one hand, and at a sticky and melting candy bar with the other. Spock raised his eyebrow at the child and he quickly hid his face.

“Then you’re in for a treat. They are just the sweetest little things. All brown eyes and gentle.”

Leonard’s grin widened impossibly further, and Spock recognized that Leonard was admiring his eyes again. Spock allowed him to look, taking his own time to catalog Leonard’s stunning features.

Spock examined the cows, his black-booted feet crinkling the straw beneath him, as Leonard danced about fawning over the animals. Spock found it curious that his husband had referred to them as ‘little,’ for they were as large as a sehlat. They did appear quite gentle, and after a moment Spock placed his hand on the flank of a pale brown cow. Her mind opened to him, soft and gentle and slow, and he asked how she felt about things and she felt back that things were fine, but she could do with more grass and maybe some grain. He found her farmer and passed on the information.

Leonard was smiling warmly at him when he left the farmer. He linked his arm with Spock and leaned against him. “Are you hungry?”

“A meal would be acceptable.”

They ate while walking and admiring the games. Spock purchased a garden burger, and Leonard a small peach hand pie. Leonard offered him a bite and Spock found it quite enjoyable, so he occasionally leaned over and nibbled from the pie until he found it was gone. Leonard was still smiling at him as he bought an additional replacement pie.

“What is that sound?” Spock asked as evening began to fall around them. It had been distracting him all day, but they had never gone close enough to it for him to identify its origin.

Leonard tipped his head up and listened closely. Spock realized that his husband could only barely hear the music, although for Spock it was quite loud. “…Fiddle, I think?” He leaned against Spock. “People are probably dancing.”

Spock studied him. Leonard’s features were steeped in melancholy and nostalgia. His gaze seemed far away as he listened for the music. “May we also dance?”

Leonard looked startled. “Sure. I mean, if you want to. I don’t want to be an imposition.”

He took Leonard’s hands in his and gently kissed the back of his knuckles. “I would be honored if you would teach me.”

Leonard’s eyes lit up and he interlocked their arms again, leading Spock towards the source of the music. There was a long, squat dance hall with tin walls in the field beside the fair. Music poured out as people poured in.

“It’s a waltz,” Leonard told him. “That’s good. A line dance would probably be a bit much for your first foray.”

Spock did not understand the statement, but he did nod his agreement. They entered the dance hall and Spock raised both eyebrows at the sight of such frivolity. Humans, and here and there people of other species, danced in close pairs. They whirled around giggling and laughing. Spock studied the footsteps of one woman as she twirled, smiling, before seeming to fall only to be caught by her partner and spun back up to twirl again the other way.

Leonard laughed gently at him and kissed his cheek. “We can take it a little slower than that.”

They found a little corner where the jaunty music reached them, but they did not have to worry about bumping into anyone. Leonard led, placing Spock’s hands carefully. His broad palm felt dry and warm to Spock, and he allowed his mind to open enough to feel Leonard’s pleasure at holding him. Leonard demonstrated a simple forward and backwards step which Spock did not find too difficult to emulate. Then they moved together.

They seemed to drift closer as Leonard occasionally interjected a new move. Spock learned to dip backwards as Leonard supported him. He learned to spin out and in, to feel Leonard’s long body against his as he was wrapped in Leonard’s strong embrace. He learned to twirl with his hand held high and then drop out, eyes alight as Leonard grinned at him.

Night fell and kerosene lanterns were brought out. The music switched, still a waltz, but slower now, gentle. Leonard held him as Spock rested his head on his shoulder, and together they swayed to the sound of the music. Leonard kissed his ear when the song ended and Spock looked up, flushed with the simple joy of being near his husband.

“Thank you,” Spock said. He found he could not put into words all he was thankful for.

Leonard still understood. He kissed Spock again, gentle and smooth and Spock shivered. “Thank you, too, darlin’. I’m glad you had fun.”

When they exited the moon was a pale white disk in the sky and Spock held Leonard’s arm in his, contented.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On [ tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/151255967655/spock-with-the-flu-spones-prompt): Spock with the flu, spones prompt?

When humans got sick, they got hot. Their bodies burned away the disease. They sweated and their bodies produced excess mucus, and they coughed. They felt weak and sleepy and dozed as they healed.

When Vulcans got sick, they got cold. Their bodies chilled the disease and isolated it for easy purging. They entered a healing trance and their bodies slowed to almost nothing, body signs barely registering on most instruments. When they woke they were healed. 

Of course Spock, being a bit of both, didn’t really get to heal properly. When half-Vulcan half-humans got sick they got cold and filled with mucus and they passed out at random intervals.

As Spock had now, with his head resting on Leonard’s shoulder.

Leonard chuckled and shifted so his arm curled around Spock’s waist and he could hold his partner against his chest. Spock kept sleeping, making little whistling noises as he breathed through his plugged nose. Leonard kept him upright so he didn’t choke and continued to read his datapadd.

Spock was like a heat sink against his side and so Leonard pulled the blankets higher around them. Only his hand and their heads were outside of the wool blanket. Leonard shivered slightly and hummed in contentment.

“Ashayam?” Spock asked weakly.

“Yes darlin’?”

“…You are warm.”

Leonard chuckled and planted a kiss atop Spock’s head, breathing in the scent of medicine and misery. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Spock cuddled into him. “It is gratifying. I believe the hypothermia is breaking. I desire your warmth.” He sniffed.

“Good. Hopefully a few more days of rest will have you ship shape again.”

Spock shifted and sighed and looked up at Leonard pitiably. “Days?”

“Days,” Leonard insisted. “Doctor’s orders and boyfriend’s prerogative. I haven’t spent so much time with you since we got stranded on He’uk.”

Spock sniffled again. “Our work keeps us busy.”

“That it does.” He smiled and brushed Spock’s hair off his dry forehead, thankful that he couldn’t catch Spock’s flu. “Can I get you a tissue?”

Spock nodded.

Leonard extricated himself carefully and Spock curled around the pillow in place of him, groaning very quietly. Leonard stretched and rustled up another box of tissues to replace the one Spock had emptied throughout the day. Then he cleaned up the small mountain of used tissues beside the bed and replicated Spock a glass of orange juice.

“Here, this will make you feel better.”

Spock made a frustrated sound as he tried to breathe through his mouth and drink at the same time. His nose was apparently too plugged. Leonard tried not to smirk too noticeably.

When the juice was gone, Leonard climbed back into bed with Spock and his partner immediately glommed onto him again, sighing a raspy breath against his neck. He kissed Spock’s head, and then one chilly ear, and picked up his datapadd.

“What are you reading?” Spock sounded exhausted. Leonard was sure he would pass out again soon.

“It’s a pulp novel, minus the pulp.” He waved the metal-and-plastic padd and smiled at his own bad joke. “About a woman rock-climber who falls into another dimension.”

“Mm.” Spock sniffled again and delicately dabbed at his nose, which was rubbed raw and green. “Would you read to me? I desire to hear your voice.”

Leonard’s heart swelled with affection. “Of course, darlin’.” He got Spock settled against his chest and began to read, letting his words fall slow and soft.

He didn’t get past two paragraphs before Spock began to snore gently, and Leonard chuckled again. He set aside his datapadd and dimmed the lights as he curled around Spock, holding his partner close. He closed his eyes and listened to Spock’s sniffling breathing. Joy filled him as Spock slowly healed in his arms, content. 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on [ tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/151224684925/maybe-you-could-do-a-spones-story-with-the-prompt):Maybe you could do a spones story with the prompt "falling in love with him was like drowning, you just want it to stop but eventually end up just giving in"

He had been small, and Lake Yuron had been so big. It had stretched farther than his eyes could see, and he had squinted at the light. He remembers looking up at Father and asking if his eyes were broken; if that was why he saw no mountains across the expanse of blue water. If it was his human half that prevented him from seeing. He does not remember Father’s answer.

He does remember water deadening his psi points. Cool and refreshing and terrifying. He remembers wanting to cry. He remembers opening his mouth. He remembers water coming in. He remembers closing his eyes. He remembers crying saltwater into fresh.

He had been small, and Lake Yuron had been big enough to take his life.

(In some ways, he is still small.)

He is small and space is big, but there is no lake in it. He can still drown just the same. He is small and Leonard’s eyes are vast and fathomless blue. He can see none of Vulcan’s mountains on the other side of them. Only greenery. Life. Earth.

After Yuron he had protected himself. Avoided water. Avoided falling. Avoided that which could panic him, terrify him, frighten him, kill him. Falling for Leonard was unavoidable. Like drowning. When Leonard touched him he could feel nothing by Leonard’s hands, as though Leonard dampened his psi sense. When Leonard spoke his ears were deafened to all other noise, as thought Leonard filled them. When Leonard smiled his body shivered as though Leonard were cool water in which he bathed.

Falling in love with him was like drowning. He had to fight it.

But like drowning the more he fought the more his limbs grew weak. The more his lungs and body burned. Like drowning, the more he fell in love, the more he could not prevent it. Could not lift his arms to signal for help. No one would come for him in the pools of Leonard’s eyes. No one would think to save him from the drowning.

Like drowning, the peace came. Quiet in the night. Overtook him so soft and gentle that he forgot about fighting. Forgot about kicking his legs and screaming, bubbles of air rising to pierce the tension of the surface. Peace made him give in, for drowning in Leonard was inevitable. Desirable.

He was small as he drowned in Leonard. Swallowed up by gentle waves. Only by giving in to the drowning could he be saved from it.

(And like drowning, there was the After. Lips pressed to his, hands at his heart to help it beat. Like drowning he coughed and cried until his eyes spilled as he _breathed_. Truly breathed for the first time in his life. Although he died when he drowned, he found that After was when he truly started living.)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on [tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/151259193595/spones-where-spock-keeps-getting-hurt-as-an-excuse): Spones where spock keeps getting hurt as an excuse to go to the medbay

“How did you even _get_ a paper cut out here?”

Spock held his finger, with its tiny cut at the very tip, very still. “I assure you the circumstances surrounding my injury are uninteresting.”

McCoy clucked his tongue and pinched at Spock’s finger, holding the wound shut as a tiny drop of blood leaked out. He picked up his dermal regenerator and sealed the injury quickly. “Well, that should do it.” He poked at Spock’s fingertip just to be sure.

Spock shivered and slipped off the biobed, nearly knocking McCoy over as he did so. “Your expertise is appreciated, Doctor.”

“Well, be more careful next time.” Before he had even finished his admonishment Spock was practically running out of the sickbay. With a shake of his head, McCoy went to his office to log the injury. Even the smallest use of the medical equipment required a log. He pulled up Spock’s medical record and scanned through it, frowning. Although this was Spock’s first paper cut, it wasn’t his first minor injury.

He’d had dozens of bumps and bruises, a plethora of scrapes, sprained fingers and a twisted ankle. So far he hadn’t broken any bones, but this was clearly the portrait of a very clumsy man. As McCoy entered the latest injury he wondered if there was anything he could do to help Spock.

He recognized that Vulcan’s gravity was very different from the gravity held on the _Enterprise_. It was likely that Spock was having trouble getting used to it, which resulted in his injuries. Or perhaps Spock had undergone a growth spurt just prior to joining the crew. McCoy knew that Vulcans did not become fully mature until their early thirties, which meant Spock could still be growing. Whatever the cause, he was tired of seeing Spock hurt. It hurt _him_ just the same. 

He didn’t have to wait long for Spock to reappear. At the middle of his shift, Spock showed up with a strained wrist. It was a common stylus-related injury, and McCoy took his time examining Spock’s hand and wrist.

“It seems you don’t take the best care of yourself Mr. Spock.”

“What are you implying, Doctor?” Spock was watching his hands intently as he probed the tender nerves beneath the skin.

“I’m not implying anything. Just stating a fact. I’ve been looking through your medical file.” He glanced up at Spock through his eyelashes, and Spock stared intently back as if he was expending all his energy listening to McCoy. “You hurt yourself at least once a week. Nothing too serious, just bumps and bruises, but as your doctor I’d like to put an end to it.”

“…I see.”

“Spock, is there something causing the injuries? Do we need to adjust the gravity? We can’t do it for the whole ship, but Scotty could maybe rig something up for your quarters, and for the science laboratory when you’re there alone.”

Spock frowned with his eyebrows. “The ship’s gravity is of no concern to me, Doctor.”

“Then did you have a growth spurt? I know you’re nearing full maturity.”

Spock’s face flushed green. “I assure you I am quite mature.”

“It wasn’t an insult, Spock. I just meant that a growth spurt could have been the cause of your clumsiness.” McCoy smiled softly at him, trying to calm him. He didn’t mean to pick a fight right then, although it would have been easy to fall into a familiar banter. He sighed at Spock’s wrist and picked up the equipment to heal the nerves. Spock’s fingers twitched as he did it.

“…I am not clumsy.”

“Hm?” McCoy fluttered his gaze upward again. He set aside his equipment and rotated Spock’s hand. “Does that hurt?”

“It does not. You have healed me once again, Dr. McCoy.”

“It’s become something of a habit, hasn’t it?” McCoy smiled at Spock, only to jump as Spock moved to hold his hand. His smile fell. “Spock?”

“Forgive me, Doctor. It is… difficult for me.”

“What’s wrong? Something worse than wrist strain?”

“Yes. No,” he corrected hastily. “I only mean… McCoy, do you find our arguments to be undesirable?”

“No,” McCoy said carefully. “I sometimes look forward to our daily tussle. Why? Have they been bothering you? I’ve never meant anything as an honest insult, and I can back off if you–”

“No, please do not feel the need to censure yourself. I only meant the question to confirm what I already suspected. I also enjoy our arguments and our…conversations, which are somewhat farther between.”

“Yes.” Spock had still not let go of his hand. “Spock, is there something you want to tell me?”

“My injuries,” Spock began, his gaze scattering across McCoy’s face as he struggled to find the words. “They are not a result of clumsiness. They are…sometimes…self-inflicted.”

“Spock! You’re hurting yourself?” His mind scrambled to reconcile the idea with the poised officer in front of him.

“It is not out of malice towards myself, nor out of depression or anxiety, two diseases which my Father’s race thankfully does not suffer from. It was only…because I wished to see you.”

McCoy gaped. Suddenly it made sense why Spock was always coming to him, why Spock only seemed to get injured when _he_ was on duty. The Vulcan was seeking him out, but too socially awkward to know how to do so appropriately. 

Spock dropped his hand and turned his face away. “I see I have shamed you.”

“No, no not at all Spock. I was just surprised. I didn’t think you liked me enough to want to seek out my company like that.”

Spock glanced at him and then away, frowning hard at the edge of the biobed. When he spoke his voice was unbelievably quiet, and McCoy had to lean in to hear him. “I like you a great deal, Doctor.” 

McCoy’s breath caught. “Oh.”

“…I have shamed you again.”

“No.” He reached out and took Spock’s face into his hands, turning him so they gazed into each other’s eyes. Spock’s dark gaze was depthless, intense, and McCoy felt his heart swell. “I like you, too.”

Spock’s mouth twitched. “You speak truthfully?”

“Always. I’ve never lied to you Spock, and I don’t have any intention of starting now.” He brushed his thumb against Spock’s high cheekbone. “I like you.”

“That is…gratifying to hear, Doctor.”

McCoy was feeling giddy, but he had to keep himself tightly reigned. “But listen, this hurting yourself has to stop. If you want to see me, just come see me! I’ll make time for you.”

Spock raised his hands to hold McCoy’s, pressing them harder against his skin. “I recognize the logic of your command, and I will obey.”

“Good.” He felt a giggle blooming, and he stifled it. “…You really gave yourself a paper cut for me?”

“…That particular injury was unintentional, although the placement was not dissatisfying. I enjoy it when you hold my hands.”

“Spock,” he said quietly, uncertain.

“Doctor.” Spock quirked his eyebrow. “May I kiss you?”

“Right now?” McCoy looked around the sickbay. He’d been so caught up that he hadn’t even considered other people might be around. He didn’t see any of his nurses, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t seen him making a fool of himself. “I…if you’re sure. But we have to be quick about it; we’re both on duty.”

“Indeed.” Spock leaned in, hands sliding up to cup McCoy’s face and bring him closer, and McCoy felt his breath leave his body in a heady rush. He was already breathless when Spock’s soft, dry lips brushed against his. Spock shifted slightly, tipping his head into the kiss to avoid bumping their noses, and it was so thoughtful that McCoy melted. His limbs felt like liquid as he kissed Spock, stepping into the space of his legs to press against him.

They held each other tightly, slowing exploring with closed-mouth kisses that had McCoy gasping and Spock shivering. Spock’s fingers were in his hair and then on the back of his neck, and he was so gentle and methodical and perfect that McCoy felt as though his heart might burst.

He had no idea how long they kissed like that before finally he had to pull away. His head swam with desire and fondness, and this time he couldn’t suppress his nervous giggle. 

Spock’s mouth shifted slightly, an almost-smile. McCoy wanted to kiss it, but he refrained. “Was that satisfactory, Doctor?”

“Very. Much better than a sprained wrist.”

“I agree.” Spock seemed to be almost vibrating with excitement, and his spine was very straight. “Are you available this evening at 1900 hours for dinner?”

“Spock, I’d be delighted.”

“Very good.” Spock slipped from the biobed and McCoy took a step back, steadying himself against it by one hand. “Meet me at my quarters?”

“I’ll see you there.”

Spock nodded and folded his hands behind his back, strolling from the sick bay with a discernible bounce in his step. McCoy watched him go, grinning like a fool. He lifted his hand to his lips and touched them, his smile softening.

Humming, he went back to work, logging Spock’s injury with practiced ease.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on [tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/151322516480/so-theres-this-scene-in-2009-star-trek-with-uhura): So there's this scene in 2009 Star Trek with Uhura and Spock in a turbolift and I thought what if it was McCoy, not Uhura, who comforted Spock after his mother's death. It's probably a prompt for ya.

He was pissed, mad, angry, incensed, and a whole lot of other hot and nuanced emotions right then. He still had the image of Jim slammed against the console—Spock’s hands at his throat—burned into his mind’s eye. Now that the Enterprise was limping back towards Earth, he intended to find Spock and give him a piece of his mind.

The computers were down, and so he went all over the ship looking for Spock. He wasn’t in his quarters, on the bridge, in the medbay, or supervising any repairs. He wasn’t even in the science lab. He seemed to be nowhere at all. That only enraged McCoy further, and he was in a blind fury by the time he finally thought to check the debriefing room, where he found Spock.

He was lying on the floor.

“Spock!” He ran over in a flash, rage dissipating as his medical instinct took over. He knelt beside Spock, who curled up in the fetal position. “Are you hurt? Stomach injury?”

Spock didn’t answer. He sobbed.

Confused and horrified, McCoy placed a hand on Spock’s shoulder, cursing himself internally for not bringing a tricorder. “Spock, listen to me. I need you to tell me where you are hurt.”

Spock was silent for a long time, holding so still that McCoy eventually realized he was holding his breath. Then he gasped and inhaled quickly, shaking his head and hiding his face in his hands. “My heart.”

“Were you injured?” When Spock didn’t answer, McCoy huffed and started to pull away. “Okay, I need to get you to sickbay. I’m going to—”

“No!” Spock was on him in a flash, practically tackling him as he wrapped his arms around McCoy’s waist. “…No,” he said again, softer, more pitiably. “Please do not leave me alone.”

“Spock…” He sighed and adjusted Spock’s grip, holding the Vulcan in his arms. “Do you need me to carry you to sickbay?”

“I am not injured physically,” Spock said quietly.

“Then—?”

“Your heart is beating.”

McCoy looked down at Spock, who had one ear pressed against McCoy’s chest. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be listening intently. McCoy’s blood ran cold as he saw twin tear tracks down Spock’s face. “…It is.”

“I am reminded…of her heart beat.”

“Your mother,” McCoy said. Instantly, he hated himself. Here he had been planning to chew Spock out when the man was hurting deeply. He’d just lost his planet, his people, his culture, his mother. Of course he had reacted badly. “Spock, I’m so sorry.”

Spock curled closer to him, practically sitting in his lap now. His arms were tense around McCoy, and McCoy held him back. He cradled Spock a moment as Spock’s stilted breathing began to even out. Before he could think better of it, he reached up and brushed Spock’s hair from his face, which sent Spock’s breath hitching again.

“Shh, I’m sorry.”

“It is different from my own,” Spock said. His voice was oddly hollow. “The sound of h—your heart. I had not realized that it could be something I would miss. I had thought…I was beyond those feelings. That they could not affect me.”

“Spock, it’s perfectly natural to react like this.”

“It is shameful.”

McCoy held him tighter, attempting not to think ill of the dead who had lead Spock to believe that.

“…I am sorry. I have offended you.”

“No,” McCoy said thickly. He brushed Spock’s hair again, uncertain. “Spock…I want you to know it’s okay to let it out around me.”

“Yet, your initial intention was to scold me for emoting around our Captain.”

“How could you—” McCoy shook off the question. Spock merely shrugged, anyway. “Well, maybe that’s true. I was spitting mad that you hurt Jim. You can’t… not around him. Not so much that you hurt him.”

Spock held quiet for a moment and then shifted away. His hands were very still against McCoy’s sides as he looked up at him. “But around you I have permission to be emotional?”

McCoy nodded instantly. If it protected Jim from further harm, he would do it. And it would help Spock, too. “Of course. I can handle a little emotionalism.” He gave Spock a smile.

Spock returned it, barely. “Your offer is appreciated, Doctor. However I am…feeling better now.”

“Okay.” Spock still hadn’t let go of him. “I’d like to take you to sickbay just to make sure.” Before Spock could protest, he held up a hand. “Don’t argue. Just let me take care of you.” He frowned; he hadn’t meant to phrase it quite like that.

Spock only looked curious. “Agreeable.”

They stood and McCoy dusted himself off, although there was no dust. He could feel Spock watching him, and he studiously looked away as he took Spock by the elbow. Spock, oddly, did not argue. He merely allowed McCoy to escort him to sickbay.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt on [tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/155449416495/spock-hears-that-mccoy-is-thinking-of-transferring): Spock hears that McCoy is thinking of transferring off the ship and must be stopped by any means

There was no doubt about it. That damned Vulcan was up to something.

McCoy had begun to suspect that something was awry about two days ago when Spock had been lying in wait in his office. He’d come in and Spock had startled, dropping the padd he was holding–damn snooping Vulcan. Thankfully, the padd hadn’t had anything of import on it, just a resignation letter from Nurse Bates which McCoy had to sign and Spock would soon see anyway. Bureaucracies ensured that nothing happened without at least eight people knowing and zero people being able to actually do anything about it.

Spock had shuffled around for a while looking nervous–at least McCoy assumed that’s what all the eyebrow scrunching was about–and then had abruptly asked him to lunch. Since McCoy hadn’t eaten, he’d agreed. Spock had acted damned odd at lunch as well. He never let McCoy out of his sight the entire time, and then insisted he go to the bridge afterwards. Without much to do in sickbay, McCoy had agreed to that, too.

On the bridge Spock had spent the whole time enticing Jim to say nice things about him. There was no other way to describe it. Spock would say something acerbic about emotions, or surgery, or medicine as a whole, but he’d do it in such a way that Jim always took McCoy’s side. McCoy realized what was happening about halfway through and, feeling weirded out about the whole thing, he’d left.

Sickbay had been even odder. He’d received a flood of visitors, all ex-patients of his, who explained that they wanted him to know how grateful they were for his help. Some of them probably should be thanking him (which he was too humble to admit) but a few were thanking him for curing stubbed toes and itchy elbows. He finally asked a few what was going on, and they’d all looked guilty and shuffled around and finally admitted that Mr. Spock had sent them. In fact, had ordered them down.

The next day Jim had come to his quarters early–which was a sight to see, because Jim was by no means a morning person. He explained that he wanted to catch up with an old friend, and when McCoy accused him of following Spock’s orders Jim had frowned and glanced around innocently and finally admitted to it. But they’d still had a good chat.

After two days of everyone under the sun thanking him and being friendly to him, McCoy was at the end of his rope. But the real kicker came when he awoke to find all of his boots missing.

He stomped down the hall in his bare feet and pounded on the door to Spock’s quarters–forget the door chime, he was too peeved for that. “Spock! Open this damn door before I break it down!”

He kept pounding and nearly smacked Spock in the face when the door finally slid open. Spock dodged expertly. “Doctor.”

“What the hell is going on?” McCoy shoved past him and looked around the room. “What the hell do you call that!” He pointed at the pile of boots on Spock’s desk.

Spock frowned slightly. “I call them boots.”

“Oh yeah? And I suppose you’ll blame Cinderella syndrome if I try them on and they happen to all fit? Spock, I want to know what’s going on right now, so get talking.”

Spock minced around, mouth opening and closing. Finally, he sighed. “I read your request for transfer.”

McCoy squinted, confused. “My request for what now?”

“Your transfer request.” Spock nodded and began to pace around the room. “It has come to my attention that you may be displeased with your position on this ship. However, I-the crew requires that you remain. We require your surgical expertise.” He stopped suddenly, fixing McCoy with a stricken look. “I recognize that I have often given you reason to believe that I find your skills lacking. Please believe me when I say I was not serious in my accusations.”

McCoy was still trying to puzzle through what the hell was going on. “You think I’m going to leave the ship?”

“Doctor, Captain Kirk and I both rely heavily on your valuable input. I-I am not sure what else I can say to entice you to stay.”

McCoy frowned. And then he snorted. He giggled and laughed and shook his head, wiping a tear from his eye. “Spock, I’m not going anywhere.”

Spock frowned. “You are not?”

“No. What you read was Nurse Bates’ resignation letter. Although you must not have gotten very far, because he actually likes it here. He just got another offer at a research station that’s a bit more relaxed. Fewer dangerous away missions, that sort of thing.”

“I did read that,” Spock said, still frowning. “I believe you will find that your away mission status has been changed in the system.”

“That’s sweet of you, Spock.” McCoy had to struggle to refrain from giggling like a fool again. “But unnecessary. If you thought I was leaving, why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Spock glanced around and down at the floor and then back to McCoy before quickly looking away again. He looked over at the wall. “Our conversations are frequently unfriendly. I believed you would not wish to discuss it with me. I—” He swallowed once. “I thought perhaps I was the instigator of your resignation.”

McCoy sighed and drummed his finger against his chin thoughtfully. “And the boots?”

Spock looked at the pile. “We reach Starbase 6 today. Without your shoes, you would not be able to leave.”

“What would you have done if I went to the transporter room anyway?”

“I likely would have grappled with you.”

McCoy shook his head disbelievingly. “Spock, trust me, I’m not leaving. But if I ever do try to leave, just have a damn conversation with me about it, all right? That’s more likely to get results than stealing my shoes.”

Spock bowed his head. “Your logic is impeccable.”

McCoy went over to the pile and picked out a boot. He turned it over in his hands, considering. “You know, it wasn’t all bad.”

“Doctor?”

“If you want to entice–or maybe cajole–the crew into giving me compliments, I’m all for that.” He glanced up, grinning at Spock and affecting his best southern drawl. “In fact, a few compliments from you now and again wouldn’t be too bad, either.”

Spock seemed to relax. “I will keep that in mind.”

“Good.” McCoy winked at him. “Now make yourself useful and help me carry these boots back to my quarters.”

No fewer than a dozen crew members stopped and stared at the First Officer and the barefoot CMO carrying a pile of boots down the corridor. But what was really shocking wasn’t the sight, it was the sound of Spock carefully and expertly listing McCoy’s many positive qualities in alphabetical order. By the time they reached the doctor’s quarters, he had not even gotten to the letter B.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/160968877670/spones-prompt-where-someone-tries-to-set-mccoy-up) prompt: spones prompt where someone tries to set McCoy up on a blind date and it turns out to be with Spock who McCoy is already well-acquainted with but the other person doesn't know they already know each other.

_Chirp. Chirp.  
_

With a growl, Leonard rolled over and smacked at the communicator. He pulled the covers up over his head and tried to fall back to sleep. But then—

_Chirp. Chirp._

He snatched at the communicator and snapped it open. “What!”

“Bo~ones,” Jim sing-songed. “Are you ready for your date?”

Leonard buried his head into the pillowed. “M’not going.”

“C’mon, Bones! I spent four weeks talking you up to this guy. You need to get out of the dorm and start meeting people.”

“No I don’t.”

“Bones.”

The testiness in Jim’s voice made Leonard wince. “Jim, I’m tired,” he said, definitely not whining. “I had to do a major reconstruction yesterday and the paperwork took four hours to finish!”

“Terrible,” Jim said, not sounding really that interested. “By the way I’m at your door.”

“What!”

He scrambled to his feet just as Jim finished picking the lock. Leonard tried to shove Jim back out but Jim just barrelled on in. “Hurry up! Geeze, you’re going to go dressed like that? The no-shirt thing might be successful, but no one ever said banana pajamas were a good look.”

“Jim,” he warned.

“Here, try this.” Jim pulled a relatively clean shirt out of the pile. “It’s got buttons, so he’ll be impressed.”

Sensing that there was no winning against the might of Jim’s annoyance, Leonard resigned himself to his fate. He got dressed and even ran a brush through his hair. Jim gave him a breath mint and he crunched on it all down the stairs and out the door. He tried to tell himself that Jim wouldn’t set him up for failure as he took the train out of the city center.

Truthfully, Jim had been talking about this guy for nearly a year now. Every chance he got he told Leonard about his new friend from Philosophy club who Leonard would probably love to meet. Leonard had stalwartly refused, knowing he didn’t have time between studying and his residency to maintain many more friendships. Somehow Jim had interpreted this to mean he was looking for a _romantic_ relationship and the issue had snowballed from there. Finally Leonard had agreed to meet him just so he could let the guy down easily.

Jim had said that he would recognize the man because he’d be wearing a green hat. Leonard scanned the crowd at the park swiftly, already rehearsing his, “it’s not either of us, it’s Jim” pre-dating break-up speech. As he looked he caught sight of one of his patients and his blood began to boil.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be under observation.”

Spock slowly turned to look at him, one eyebrow raising under his–fuck. Fuck! That was a green hat! “Doctor.”

“Uh.”

Spock frowned. He was a damn menace and an all-around awkward person. He graced the halls of the hospital more often than he should, since Earth’s gravity tripped him up and Physics was one of the most unstable of the sciences, usually landing in Leonard’s lap since he was one of the few doing a xenobiology residency.

Leonard could see that his arm was still in a sling, bandaged to high heaven from the damn _surgery_ he’d had yesterday. “If you will excuse me, I am waiting for someone.”

“Someone sent by one James “Terrible Friend” Kirk?”

Spock blinked.

Leonard sighed. “What are you doing out of the hospital, anyway?”

“I…had a date,” Spock said blankly.

“Uh-huh.” Leonard had no idea what to do, so he blustered. “Should’a known better than to leave you anyway. You snuck out three days early when I fixed those burns.”

“They were far less severe than you assumed.”

“And the time with the blood loss?”

Spock’s ear twitched. “It came back.”

Leonard sighed. “Here, let me have a look at you.”

He approached and began poking at Spock’s arm. It had been a difficult surgery and would require more time to heal since Spock was part Vulcan, but it didn’t look like Spock had hurt himself further. Spock patiently accepted his examination, his eyes following Leonard’s hands.

“You seem fine,” Leonard said, annoyed. “But you better not let me catch you doing something so fool-headed again.”

Spock raised a brow. “I had an appointment to keep I did not wish to miss.”

“Oh yeah? And all those other times, I suppose you had dates then, as well.”

Spock was quiet, then, “No,” he said, very softly. “Jim has spoken very highly of you, Doctor.”

“Oh?” Leonard tried to scoff, but he was blushing.

“He neglected to mention your profession, however. A curious oversight.” Spock’s brown eyes scanned him coolly. “This is acceptable. Where will you be taking me this evening?”

Leonard spluttered. “What? I mean, I was going to…” He stopped himself from saying _dump you_ in the nick of time.

Spock just stared at him.

“I-I was going to…” He looked around quickly. “Take you for a walk…around the park?”

“Acceptable.” Spock offered him his non-broken arm and Leonard numbly took it. “Proceed.”

Leonard took a step. Then another. He desperately searched for some bit of small talk to occupy them. “So…uh… You and Jim met…through Philosophy club?”

“Indeed.”

“I thought you were a physicist?”

“I engage in many intellectual pursuits. Unlike one pursuing a medical degree I find that diversifying my learning is beneficial.”

Was that an insult? Leonard decided to get insulted. Just in case. “Bunch of abstract nothing, that’s what that is. Medicine is _applied_ ethics.”

“An application without relevance.”

Okay, definitely an insult. Leonard grabbed onto the thread of conversation with both hands and _tugged_. If Spock thought he could best Leonard in the game of philosophy he had another thing coming. He opened his mouth.

They argued for the better part of four hours. Spock was witty and biting and Leonard was exhilarated and annoyed. They walked around the park until Leonard was exhausted and Spock made some crack about the limitations of the human body, then they got down the path of arguing about subjective meanings of bodily functionality, until pretty soon they were discussing the pros and cons of space colonization and then eventually they circled back around to medicine where they stayed until Spock abruptly looked up at the sky.

“It has grown dark,” he said, sounding mildly surprised.

“You can’t distract me. You said an ethical basis in the absence of harm is untenable for medicine as a whole, and I say—”

Spock stopped him with a peck on the cheek.

Leonard blinked, utterly gobsmacked.

“I meant no distraction,” Spock said mildly. “Merely that this conversation might be better concluded in a warmer environment.” His lip twitched. “My doctor has informed me I should take better care of my health. Will you accompany me home? I have tea.”

Spock looked so nervous that Leonard’s heart nearly melted. He felt himself soften. “Well,” he drawled. “I suppose I could be amenable to that. I, ah, need to keep an eye on that arm of yours anyway.”

“Indeed.” Spock’s lip twitched again. “You were saying? Regarding the ethical structure of the Hippocratic Oath?”

“As I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted…” Leonard continued, glaring good-naturedly at Spock as they walked together out of the park, sniping under the silver moon.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/160970832755/spones-accidental-kisses-or-like-we-had-to-kiss-to) prompt: Spones accidental kisses or like we had to kiss to hide?

Spock rushed down the deserted alleyway and leapt around the overturned garbage can. His bootheel caught on the cobblestone and he fell, hard, hitting his chin as his tricorder flew from his hand and smashed against the ground. **  
**

“What was that about Vulcan poise and grace?” McCoy shouted as he grabbed Spock by the back of his shirt and hauled him up.

Spock noted that McCoy was panting quite hard. “You should save your breath for running, Doctor.”

“You’re one to talk. Is the tricorder—”

“Destroyed,” Spock confirmed. “We will not know how close they are.”

“Well let’s not stick around to find out.”

With no way to scan for hostiles, they ran blindly into the night. Distantly, Spock could hear an alarm being raised. He tried to run faster but McCoy lagged behind and so Spock fell back beside him. They dashed through the streets until McCoy was gasping for breath. Spock could have continued, but instead he pulled the two of them into an alleyway.

“Breathe, Doctor.”

“M’fine,” he gasped, breaking into a coughing fit. Spock watched, discomfited, as McCoy coughed. He took a few deep breaths. “Jesus,” he said shakily. “I’ve gotten…soft in my old age.”

“You are not yet forty,” Spock corrected. “Hardly old.” His ears perked up. “Someone is coming,” he hissed.

“What?” McCoy turned and took a step, but a building blocked his way. “Damnit, Spock! Of all the alleyways you could have turned down.”

Footsteps approaching. “Doctor,” Spock warned.

“I can’t believe you think you’re the logical one! Half the time you don’t seem to know your left from your right, but maybe the ears are causing interference.”

“Doctor!” Spock tried again.

“Now we’re going to get caught on some god-forsaken planet, and you’re over there—”

Spock really thought he was just going to grab McCoy’s arm.

McCoy jerked away and Spock grabbed at him again. He could see McCoy’s mouth open to continue the line of their argument despite the fact this was far from the optimal time. Spock grabbed one of McCoy’s arms. Then the other. Then he thought, I must silence McCoy.

Next thing he knew he was swallowing a gasp of surprise.

Spock’s mind was always busy. He could not recall a time when he wasn’t thinking about mathematical computations alongside musical compositions. His mind was usually awash with the minutia of his body as he kept himself tightly control. He focused on imagining starcharts and solving the latest engineering difficulties. He was a busy person with a busy mind.

And for a moment, that stopped.

His world seemed to narrow to one bright speck, and maybe he was still imagining a starchart. A single star, lost in the cosmos, tasting of peaches. He realized McCoy had stopped trying to fight him and so he did the next logical thing: he lifted his hands to curl his thumbs at the line of McCoy’s jaw and held him. Spock tipped his head to one side and McCoy tipped opposite of him and the world beneath them spun a little slower. Each moment was languid, tranquil and Spock could have done this for days. McCoy was fascinating. Nuanced. Subtle. Spock wanted to explore and be explored until–

Suddenly McCoy’s arms were around him. He tugged Spock off balance and then they were against the wall, and things got a whole lot more dramatic. Spock’s ears rang with a rush of blood and excitement as McCoy kissed him at warp 9. One of his hands found McCoy’s waist and he pulled their bodies flush together and McCoy grunted into his mouth, half-laughter.

Intrigued, Spock chased the sound, chased McCoy’s clever tongue now put to much more logical pursuits. McCoy struck back, as he always did, and then spun him around.

Spock hit the wall and McCoy set to work on him again, all incautious teeth and steady hands. Spock had no complaints. Could not even recall why he would have complaints until McCoy accidentally brushed against his bruised jaw and he remembered:

Running.

Alleyway.

They were being watched.

He stood up straight and McCoy fell off of him like a jacket. Spock stared at their audience and attempted to think of how to explain their actions. His quite logical brain could only wonder where the kisses had gone.

“Captain,” he said finally.

“Mr. Spock.” Jim looked utterly amused.

McCoy glared at him. “Great, you’re here,” he said, not sounding like he found it very ‘great’ at all. “Did you get those peacekeepers off our tail?”

“I did indeed,” Jim said mildly. “Not that you seemed to need my help with your…tail.”

Spock felt like he was being mocked, but he ignored it. “Then perhaps we should make haste to leave this planet.”

Jim leaned against the wall. “We can leave whenever. You two feel free to continue whatever it was you were doing. Don’t mind me.”

McCoy reached over and snatched the communicator from Jim’s belt, ignoring his plaintive “hey.” “McCoy to Enterprise. Three to beam up.”

Scotty acknowledged and the beam caught them. They materialized and McCoy immediately stepped off the pad, throwing the communicator at Jim as he stalked away. Jim still looked amused.

“If you will excuse me, Captain,” Spock said diplomatically.

“Debriefing at 0900,” Jim said. “Until then you two have fun.”

Spock hastened after McCoy.

He found him startling ensigns on deck four. Spock cleared his throat and the rest scattered, leaving one very-cross looking doctor standing in the hallway. “Spock, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Contemplating the emotional reaction your kiss instill in me.”

“You—” McCoy gaped. He shut his mouth with a click. “Did you just say…?”

“Indeed.” Spock glanced around with faux innocence. “I am afraid there are no seedy alleyways available to attempt a repeat performance.”

McCoy looked around as well, relaxing in increments. “No alleys, huh?” he drawled slowly. “Corridor J doesn’t see much use.”

“Indeed it does not.” Spock gestured down the hall. “Shall we?”

McCoy’s eyes glittered. “Just a little repeat,” he hedged.

“For hypothesis-testing,” Spock agreed.

“And then I’ll take a look at that bruise on your chin.”

“Agreed.”

“All right then,” McCoy said giddily. “Let’s go.”

He grabbed Spock’s hand and tugged him down the hall to corridor J, where things got a little out of hand and they found themselves arriving at the debriefing thirty minutes late with eight more mouth-shaped bruises between them.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/161218724280/toosouthernforspace-commented-on-your-post-just) prompt: Just because you’re a Vulcan doesn’t mean you can keep sacrificing yourself for me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: blood, guns  
> 

In the violence of the night, a moment of quiet contemplation.

Later, Leonard will think back to this moment and recognize it as a gift. He will cherish his shattered memory of the space between ongoing breaths, and he will laugh so as not to cry. He will wonder at the stillness of it all and spare a moment to question where the phaser fire has gone, the sound of ripping bullets, gunpowder hot on his heels. But all this later.

Now, Leonard presses whispers against the thready pulse at Spock’s neck.

“Just because you’re a Vulcan doesn’t mean you can keep sacrificing yourself for me.”

His hands are green as grass, damp as dew drops. He presses hard enough that Spock’s stoicism crumbles into a gasp of pain. Leonard does not let up the pressure. Not for anything. Spock’s eyelashes flutter damp against his cheeks, and he sighs, breathy and for a moment he doesn’t breathe again.

Then he does. “The ship…needs a doctor.”

Leonard focuses every fiber of his being on the rise and fall of Spock’s chest, as though he might will Spock to continue living. “The ship needs a first officer more.”

Spock’s brow crunches. “Illogical,” he whispers. “Mr. Scott is more than adequate to fulfill my role.”

“That isn’t what I mean and you know it!” He gasps as the gunfire starts up again, an echoing _rat tat tat_! interspersed with phaser fire. It’s a ways away, but far too close for comfort. “We need to get you out of here,” he says reluctantly.

Medkit, bandages, clotting agent, hope. He gets Spock standing, barely, and Spock’s entire weight rests against his weary shoulder. Leonard hoists him up and over the hill, and then down, marching one foot in front of the other as Spock’s left heel drags behind them. He can’t move it. Leonard doesn’t have time to wonder why.

“We’re almost there,” he murmurs, and indeed he can see the shuttle, perhaps six hundred yards off, a silver star in the black foliage. “We’re almost there and I can call the ship and we’ll get you back.”

Spock stumbles.

Leonard goes down with him and the wound begins to bleed. The wound. Not Spock, but the wound. Separate. Clinical. Leonard holds the wound tight but it is Spock who gasps, illogically placed lungs gurgling.

“Dammit. _Dammit_!”

Spock coughs. “I am well, Doctor,” he rasps. “We must continue.”

Leonard pulls him up and it’s everything he can do to get Spock’s dense body moving again. His muscles shout at the exertion of it, but he cannot stop, _will not stop_. Even as he gasps he is scolding. “Don’t know what you think you were doing, jumping in front of me like some kind of martyr! You think that thick Vulcan hide of yours’ll protect you, but you’re wrong.”

“If I had not moved,” Spock says, and falls into quiet gasps of pain. Leonard lets him finish. “You would be dead.”

And dammit if Spock doesn’t have to be right even on his deathbed. Those bullets–ripping metal designed for killing bodies–they were meant for him. But Spock was fast when he wanted to be.

The shuttle is a silent sanctuary and Leonard pings the emergency broadcast and goes back to Spock, curls his hand into Spock’s broad, flat palm and feels the weakness in his fingers. Spock looks at him vacantly.

“How long?”

“Minutes,” Leonard whispers. “Just hold on.”

Spock’s hand shifts in his, but his grip does not tighten. He closes his eyes. “Thank you, Doctor.”

Leonard feels his blood run cold, ice in his veins, terror. Spock is a shell of glass in his hands. “For what?”

“For…encouraging me to be more…than I am.”

His eyelids flutter and his breathing grows shallow. Leonard holds him tightly and presses a thumb to the junction of his neck, enough to feel the jutting edge of Spock’s collar bone, hard enough to hurt. Spock jerks awake, blinking in confusion.

“No,” Leonard says, and he has never felt such rage before, the burning of a thousands suns, a rage eternal. “You don’t get to say that shit and then give up on me!”

Spock’s mouth opens, and the beam takes them.

…

In the quiet of the night, a moment of contemplation. Leonard sits with his head bowed, scrub mask slumped to the floor. His hands are clean now, gloves gone.

Behind the wall Spock slumbers as his body heals. Leonard imagines bones knitting, flesh melding, skin stitching together. He thinks of Spock’s limp hand in his and says, out loud into the empty room, “I’ve got to tell him.”

And when tomorrow comes and Spock’s brown eyes open to the sky, the sun, the world–to the sight of Leonard McCoy looking over him angelic and smiling, he tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy one-hundred comments. :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/161306753340/dan-buddy-yoga-and-meditation-instructor-spock) prompt: yoga and meditation instructor spock and bones going because someone makes him?

Grumbling didn’t work. Promising to eat better didn’t work. Swearing up and down that he would take it easy at the hospital didn’t work. Swearing in general didn’t work. In the end, it was Jim’s face that finally pushed Leonard over the edge. The way he pouted when he said, “Bones, you really need to take care of yourself. For me?”

And goddammit, he was a doctor! He knew how to take care of himself! So what if he imbibed too often and frequently forgot to eat? So what if he worked himself half to death and forsook sleep? He took his vitamins. But the sad kicked-puppy dog look on his friend’s face forced him down to the store to buy a pair of bright blue spandex yoga pants and a matching yoga mat. He muttered under his breath the entire drive to the yoga studio.

Leonard wasn’t normally a yoga kind of guy. He’d never been very flexible and much preferred a quick jog around the park–something outside, where he could see green things growing. But Dr. M’Benga had given him a coupon for the place along with a stern scolding that he needed to unwind, so he figured he might as well check it out. He had ten free visits and he planned to make the best of them.

The studio was a drab little building that appeared to have been recently painted the color of cement. Inside was nicer, all wood paneling and soft silk drapes, although there were no overhead lights in the lobby. The only light emanated from three bright white string-lights and a glowing rock in each corner. There was a young boy with a stunning helmet of hair filing his nails behind the desk.

The boy glanced up. “Hello,” he said in a disinterested Russian accent. “You’re new. You here for a class?”

“Er, yes.” Leonard stepped forward and flashed his coupon. “I checked the online schedule and saw that there was one in a few minutes.”

“The _fal-kov_ ,” the boy confirmed. He took the coupon and punched out a square and then went back to filing his nails. “The non-member changing room is to your left, and the studio is on the second floor. Elevator is beside the changing room if you prefer that to stairs.”

Leonard nodded and hastened to the changing room. He got out of his tired scrubs and struggled into the spandex tights, annoyed by how tightly they clung. They caught on the hairs of his legs. Once dressed he tossed the wrapping off his new mat and climbed the stairs.

There were already people gathered and stretching. Leonard unfurled his mat in the corner, as far away from the front as possible. He didn’t want anyone looking at him. He stood there, uncertain, until a tall slender Vulcan man walked in alongside a short, round woman with long, tightly-coiled black hair. The Vulcan was wearing black yoga pants and a cropped yellow t-shirt that revealed his slightly furry belly.

The woman had a bucket of water bottles and she handed one out to everyone in the room. Leonard accepted it politely and gave her his best winning smile, but she only arched her brow in return. She went and had a hushed conversation with the Vulcan man and Leonard swore they looked his way. He thought maybe it was his nerves getting to him, but then the Vulcan looked directly at him with a piercing black gaze and raised one angled eyebrow.

Leonard frowned.

The woman left and the man stood at the front of the room and unfurled his mat. He introduced himself as Instructor Spock and said they would begin when the room reached the proper temperature.

Immediately, Leonard began to sweat.

He thought it was his residual awkwardness at the new situation, but then he _really_ began to sweat. The temperature in the room seemed to double and it was like they were piping water into the very air itself. Leonard struggled to breathe, but Spock and the others seemed unaffected. Spock had an excuse–he was Vulcan–but the humans in the room must just have been crazy.

“The temperature is now optimal,” Spock said, his voice rich and resonant in the thick air of the studio. “Begin standing, ankles together.”

Leonard hastened to catch up with what everyone else seemed to implicitly know how to do. He followed along as Spock demonstrated from the front of the room how to stand and slowly lift one’s hands to the air. Leonard found his gaze drifting a little south, to Spock’s flat stomach. He jerked his gaze upwards again.

It didn’t seem very difficult at first, and then quite suddenly it got impossible. Spock made them balance haphazardly and stick their legs out at odd angles and lean dramatically to the side. Occasionally, Spock came out into the room and readjusted one of the students. Leonard was feeling headstrong now and refused to stop even though he was already feeling tired and hot and sweaty. He guzzled about half his bottle of water in the first ten minutes and sweat began to bead on his brow and run down into his eyes.

His feet were wet and kept sticking to the mat. His shirt clung to his shoulders. But dammit, he was going to do this. He’d show that Vulcan that all his skeptical eyebrow raising was ill-informed. He was perfectly capable of–ah!–stretching in these…weird…uncomfortable poses. He winced as his back let out a shout of distress.  He let out a breath and held the pose. Spock came from the front of the room and stood behind Leonard, gently resting a hand on his shoulder. Spock only pushed him a half-a-centimeter but suddenly the tension went out of Leonard’s body and his back relaxed. He blinked a confused thank you, but Spock did not respond.

Spock was up at the front looking utterly unruffled, though most of the humans in the room were now huffing and puffing. Leonard figured they had to be at least half-way done–it felt like they’d been at this for hours–so he drank the rest of his water and mopped the sweat from his brow. Spock had them all stand on one leg and then, mercifully, they could lay down. Leonard felt like taking a nap but Spock didn’t let up for a second.

They lifted legs, shoulders, bodies in time to Spock’s meditative voice. Leonard did find it soothing, and at some point his brain stopped registering his discomfort. He moved through the series of poses not without effort, but certainly without thought. He moved where Spock guided him. Twice more Spock came to his mat and helped him enter the pose required, his long hands shockingly cool and dry in the oppressive heat of the room.

Finally, they knelt. Spock told them to breathe and they did so. Leonard felt his eyes close automatically. Breathe in, Spock said. Out. Feel the heat of the room. Moisture in the air. The center of your body striving for water. Breathe in. Out. Feel.

Leonard felt.

He opened his eyes sometime later and saw that most of the students had already left. A few hung out by the door, chatting.

There was a bottle of water hovering near him.

He took it, looking up at Spock with embarrassment. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“It is no difficulty,” Spock said. He stood with his hands folded behind his back as Leonard tried not to drown himself in his haste to drink. He hadn’t realized just how thirsty he was, but now that he had water he realized he was light-headed with dehydration. “You did well for your first session.”

Leonard frowned. “How do you know this was my first time?”

“I know all the students,” Spock said patiently. “We are a small studio. Also your…expression as the room began to heat was quite telling.”

Leonard chuckled. “I guess I didn’t exactly know what I was getting myself into.” He tried to stand up and realized his legs were jelly. He swiped a hand over his brow, disgusted at the sweat still clinging there.

“If you wish—” Spock cut himself off, glancing towards the door. “There is a shower area normally reserved for studio members. I would give you access today.”

“That bad, huh?” Leonard said, hoping he didn’t stink. Wasn’t there something about Vulcans and a superior sense of smell? “I sure could use it. Thanks.”

Spock nodded and looked away politely as Leonard struggled to his feet. Spock lead him to a door tucked away on the ground floor and opened it with a key card. Inside were rows of lockers and two students chatting as they changed. Leonard gave a wave to Spock in thanks and went straight for the showers.

The water was exquisite. Amazing how different water could feel pouring down his throat or over his body, rather than clinging heavy in the air. He let the water run over him and rested his head against the cool tile wall, thinking that maybe everyone had been right. A little exercise never hurt anybody. He felt good. Energized. 

He found towels in a pile and put on his street clothes. When he left he saw no one until he got to the lobby, where Spock was sitting on a wooden bench reading a book with a pair of black thick-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. He’d changed into a regular long-sleeve shirt that covered his midriff. A real disappointment for Leonard.

He glanced up as Leonard entered.

“Did you…” Leonard trailed off, not wanting to ask if Spock had waited up for him.

Spock rose. His ring finger fell between the pages of his book, saving his spot. “The studio closed. I remained behind to lock up.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I had taken so long.”

“It is no trouble.” Spock’s face was soft. “I also intended to tell you that tomorrow you will feel quite different than you do now. There is a certain euphoria after exercise that will fade to exhaustion tomorrow.”

“I know that.” He smirked. “The human body’s no mystery to me, Spock. I’m a doctor by day.”

“I see.” Spock seemed honestly interested. “In two days time I will hold another class. You should attend.”

Leonard laughed, caught off guard by Spock’s forthrightness. “I’ll do that.”

Spock gestured Leonard out and locked up the studio. Leonard hesitated on the sidewalk in the cool night air, feeling like he should say something else. He wasn’t sure what.

“So…”

“I did not get your name,” Spock said.

“It’s Leonard. Leonard McCoy.” He almost stuck out his hand before remembering Vulcans preferred not to touch. But then, Spock had been touching him plenty during the class. Maybe it was different in that hot space.

Spock nodded and Leonard realized suddenly that his eyes weren’t black, as he’d thought at first. They were a deep, rich brown. Quite inquisitive. “I bid you good night, Doctor McCoy.”

“Just Leonard, please,” he said, and smiled. “Doctor McCoy was my father.”

Spock didn’t seem to get the joke but his face softened anyway. “Good night, Leonard.”

Leonard left into the night feeling lighthearted. He bounced in time to the song dancing through his head, not caring at all that tomorrow he would awake sore and tired, cursing Vulcans and their overheated yoga classes. He knew he’d still be back in two day’s time to unfurl his mat at the front of the room.

And maybe he’d bring his own water, next time.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/161556614300/so-how-about-spones-with-spock-being-extremely) prompt: So how about spones with Spock being extremely jealous about something but not letting McCoy know because it's illogical

Logically, Spock knew that Leonard did not mean anything by it.

It was simply in Leonard’s nature to be flirtatious. Spock watched as Leonard kissed the back of Lady Aldendron’s hand and gave her his best winning smile. She lit up with laughter and Leonard chuckled back. Spock attempted to control the pang of jealousy Leonard’s laughter elicited. Usually Spock enjoyed the sound of Leonard so happy, but he could not stop feeling disappointed that it was someone else who had gotten such a reaction from his beloved.

Leonard offered Aldendron his arm and then had to explain the gesture to the alien woman. She laughed delightedly and accepted it, walking alongside him through the winding halls of the castle.

Stone-faced, Spock followed behind them.

The Lady was quite beautiful, Spock thought with a touch of annoyance. He knew that Leonard had previously been attracted to similar women. She was slight of build and had brown, tightly coiled hair interlaced with glinting silver wire. Her dress was the same color Spock imagined fairy wings would be, if such a mythical creature existed. She glided over the hewn stone path with a sense of dignity and purpose Spock could not hope to emulate. When she laughed it was like the reverberation of a bell, clear and sweet.

He thought of his own straight black hair, plain looks, lack of ornamentation, and slightly wrinkled uniform. He thought of his own awkward feet and the fact that Leonard had never heard him laugh out of pleasure.

It was illogical, Spock knew. Leonard had chosen him to be with. But when Spock saw him at ease with Lady Aldendron, a gentle smile gracing his beautiful features, Spock could not help but think that Leonard had made the wrong choice.

Aldendron lead them to the viewing chamber and left them there as she went to gather the rest of the city’s ruling parliament. Leonard bounced on his heels, folding his hands behind his back as she glided from the hall. He was still smiling.

“Well, Mr. Spock? What do you think?”

Spock looked towards where Aldendron had gone. “I suppose she is quite pleasing to look at, if one notices such a thing.”

Leonard grunted. “I suppose, but I was referring to my diplomacy skills. Maybe I should branch out. Be a doctor _and_ a diplomat.”

Spock turned to frown at him and saw that Leonard was smiling gently. Spock softened at the sight. “Your skills are unmatched on both accounts.”

Leonard laughed and tipped his head to the side like an inquisitive bird. “What about you? Is something the matter?”

“The matter? No.” Spock attempted to school his features, to erase whatever emotion Leonard noticed in his face, but his attempt only seemed to increase Leonard’s puzzlement.

“Really? You’ve got this look like…” He waved a hand in Spock’s general direction.

“An unhelpful critique,” Spock said, feeling quite discomfited by the exchange.

Leonard chuckled again. “It wasn’t a critique,” he said softly. He stepped towards Spock and interlaced their fingers together. “I just notice you, is all.”

Spock flushed at the kiss of Leonard’s fingers. “It is illogical,” he said.

“You know I love to hear you being illogical.”

Spock looked down to the ground. “Your…familiarity with Lady Aldendron was… striking to me.”

Leonard sucked in a breath. “Oh, Spock. Are you jealous?”

He sounded honestly concerned and so Spock did not take offense. “Jealousy is a human emotion.”

“That ain’t a ‘no.’”

Spock sighed. He looked down to their joined hands. “Perhaps…Slightly. A miniscule amount in the grand scheme of things.”

“You know I’ve only got eyes for you, right?”

“So you have told me.” Spock looked up to him and stopped breathing, pierced by the intensity of Leonard’s gaze. He inhaled again, shuddering. “So you have told me… many times.”

“I’ll keep telling you, too.” Leonard began to brush his gentle fingers over the back of Spock’s hand. “Every day, for as long as it takes you to believe me. And then some more,” he said, grinning. “Because you deserve to know I love you.”

“Leonard… _shaya tonat._ ”

“You’re welcome, beautiful.”

At that moment Lady Aldendron came back into the room trailing a cluster of politicians. Leonard gave Spock’s hand one last squeeze before stepping back to face them. Spock stood beside him, infused with the might of Leonard’s care for him, and they face the situation together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also! I will be doing a Cup o' Spones fic writing drive which you can read about [here](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/161436337250/adenils-cup-o-spones-fic-writing-drive-what-a).


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/161605266000/prompt-jim-is-injured-on-an-away-mission-and) prompt: Jim is injured on an Away Mission and Spock blames himself for Jim's getting hurt. He is also convinced that Bones blames him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: This one is more gen/pre-relationship (and kind of McSpirk) but I still wanted to post it here. :)
> 
> Also the [ Spones Fic Drive ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/161436337250/adenils-cup-o-spones-fic-writing-drive-what-a) is still happening soon, so get ready!

Spock sat in the quiet Sickbay. His eyes were open but he looked at nothing. He stared, but did not let himself see the form lying unnaturally still on the bed before him. He kept his hands folded in his lap and counted the tones of the computer that sang in time with Jim’s heartbeat.

Jim was alive, Spock told himself firmly. Despite everything Spock had done Jim was still alive.

He replayed the events in his head, images and sounds and smells sharp and accurate to the last detail. Perks of a Vulcan memory. Endless torture for his own self-flagellation.

The planet had been quiet. Peaceful. Remote. All of which should have told Spock that trouble was just around the corner. And in fact McCoy had said that, in so many words, said, “Some paradise, huh? This place is too good to be true. Smells like trouble.”

And Spock had said, “It is illogical to assume that because a planet matches human standards of paradise that it contains ‘trouble.’”

Jim had laughed at them good-naturedly and disrupted the thread of their bickering. But McCoy had picked it up again three hours later with his hands pressed against his captain’s chest, bright and shining from the force of an attack meant for Spock.

“I told you this would happen! Dammit—”

“–Spock.”

Spock startled from his contemplation and looked up at McCoy. The doctor stood at the foot of the biobed wearing his surgical scrubs and a small frown. His hair was in disarray and he seemed thinner, somehow. Exhausted.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I am contemplating what information I shall include in my log.”

McCoy arched his brow. “Uh-huh. Well can you scoot back? I need to give Jim a once-over.”

Spock pushed his chair back to give McCoy room to maneuver. He sat and watched as McCoy pulled out his medical tricorder and scanned the length of Jim’s unconscious form. He hesitated over Jim’s chest and hummed at whatever his instruments detected. Then he set aside the equipment and pulled back the covers, gently touching the area around the surgical site.

It was ghastly to look at. Spock refused to turn away. He had done this, he told himself sternly. This wound was his fault. If the captain died he would be to blame. He knew it, and McCoy knew it too. That was why the doctor was avoiding him. Refused to even speak to him. Look at him.

“He’s going to be fine,” McCoy said, his voice a scant whisper.

“You are certain?”

The ship hummed in the silent room, then, “As I ever can be. It’s going to take a few days, maybe a week, for me to feel comfortable taking him off the neural stabilizer and wake him up. Think you can handle running the ship for so long?”

Still McCoy did not turn to him, and so Spock addressed the back of his head. “It is never a duty I wish for.”

McCoy hummed. “You don’t wish for much.”

“No.” Spock considered the sloped lines of McCoy’s tense shoulders, the curve of his back. “I do not.”

With a sigh, McCoy turned and leaned against the biobed. Now Spock could see the utter exhaustion in his eyes. The translucency of his skin. “You should get some rest.”

“As should you.”

McCoy twitched. “I’m going to keep watch.”

“Then I will not leave.”

McCoy pushed away from the biobed and stood over Spock, speaking in a harsh whisper despite the fact that no matter how loudly he yelled Jim would not–could not–awaken. “Now you listen here. I’ve already got a patient and I don’t need another one. Especially not if it means the first officer has run himself ragged in a fit of self pity.”

Spock had to turn away. He did not wish to see McCoy’s rage. “The events which occurred on the planet were a direct result of my actions.”

“Spock—”

“Please, Doctor. If you will allow me my…self-indulgence?”

McCoy let out an explosive sigh. “Fine,” he said. “You can stay. But only until the shift change and then I expect you to go home and get some sleep.”

“Doctor—”

“I will order you to if I have to. I can have you confined to quarters and I won’t let you out even if there’s an emergency.”

Slightly miffed, Spock nodded. He recognized this was not a battle he could win. “Very well.”

“Good.” McCoy nodded. He stood there a moment as if he wished to say something more, but in the end he turned and walked towards his office.

Spock went back to watching the Captain sleep and so he did not notice that McCoy had stalled in the doorway until he spoke again minutes later.

“Spock.”

He turned and saw McCoy watching him. He shrank beneath the gaze. “Doctor.”

“We’re going to have a long talk later about just who is to blame for Jim’s accident.” At the words Spock shrank even further, mentally berating himself, but then McCoy looked away from him as if embarrassed, grunting, “Just a preview: it ain’t you.”

He blinked in surprise and watched McCoy disappear through the office door. He wondered if McCoy had said that merely to make him feel better–a pointless endeavor, as Spock did not feel.

Spock returned to his watch, thinking. He examined Jim’s ashen face and thought of McCoy’s colorless exhaustion. It was interesting, and frightening, this human ability to hurt one’s self to protect another. An ability he had inherited. An ability he coveted.

He kept watch. Waited. His only company the steady drone of machinery and McCoy, mere feet away yet separated by a thousand walls.

It was quiet.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For my [Cup o' Spones Drive allislaughter prompted](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162013626110/cup-o-spones-fic-drive-fill-1): 100 words about Spones arguing about if tea should be hot or iced. 
> 
> So have a short and sweet ficlet. <3

Under the burning heat of the sun condensation clings to his glass like the sweat on his brow, collects under his fingers and falls in liquid drips to darken the cloth of his shirt. He thinks of lemon.

Leonard lets out a deep, resonant sigh. “Nothing like a cool drink on a hot summer’s day.”

Spock’s lips pucker and Leonard thinks of lemon for an entirely different reason. “It is winter,” Spock says. “Further, tea should always be drunk hot.”

“Sure, if you want me to get heat stroke.”

“There is a certain cooling effect when the body is heated past it’s resting endothermic state.”

“Spock, I’m a doctor, and that was a load of nonsense.” He laughs and offers his condensation-covered fingers to Spock, who meets them as that sour-lemon look softens into sweetness.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Cup o' Spones prompt](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162015903730/prompt-a-different-kind-of-pulse): A different kind of "Pulse"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “The first person to accurately measure the pulse rate was Santorio Santorii who invented the pulsilogium, a form of pendulum, based on the work by Galileo Galilei. A century later another physician, de Lacroix, used the pulsilogium to test cardiac function.” (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulse)

Spock has trouble with his hands.

He’s never been very good with his posture, and styluses were made for human hands–not his Vulcan ones, with a few too many bones and half-again as many muscles as is necessary. Or at least, that’s what Leonard tells him when he pulls him down for a hand massage.

They sit cross legged on the couch and Leonard carefully takes one of Spock’s long hands into his broad ones. He starts at the forearm and works down towards Spock’s palm, digging his steady hands into the sore and twisted muscles. He presses and prods and Spock tries not to sigh in relief as the tension eases. Leonard is careful–he avoids the tips of Spock’s fingers, too sensitive for casual touch. He shies away whenever Spock gives an involuntary gasp of pain. He knows precisely where Spock’s nerves lie, just beneath the skin, and he can avoid or draw attention to them depending on his goal.

Leonard performs this ritual daily, except in cases of emergency. Such as the one which occurred at 0800 hours and which left Spock’s face singed with smoke and fire. His skin still feels raw from it. The fire had been modest and quickly dealt with, but Spock knows from the intensity in Leonard’s eyes that he is still concerned.

Spock shivers as Leonard’s fingers brush against the pulse point at his wrist and then stay there, pressing light enough that it could almost be Spock’s imagination that Leonard is touching him at all. He’s counting, Spock realizes. Counting heartbeats.

“I am still here, Leonard.”

Leonard looks away, guilty. He’s never been very good at sharing what he’s feeling despite what he would like people to believe. “I was just thinking,” he says casually, as if he wasn’t about to cry. “About the pulsilogium.”

“Pulsilogium?”

“And about human interactions with machines.” He chuckles and flashes Spock a grin that makes Spock’s heart swell with affection. “It was the first machine used in medicine. It measured the pulse like a pendulum. It was the first step in making this—” he presses hard on Spock’s wrist and Spock can feel the pressure of his heart beat magnified a thousandfold. “Obsolete.”

Spock closes his hand over Leonard’s and holds him there, wanting Leonard to feel how desperately alive he still is. “Your touch cannot be made obsolete, Leonard.”

He sighs and slips his hand away. “You sweet-talker,” he says, his voice tired. “Sometimes I wish you really were a machine. A machine can be fixed regardless of the trouble it winds up in.”

“Not so,” Spock says, but he can see from the look on Leonard’s face that now isn’t the time for an argument, so he softens. “Although, with Mr. Scott’s expertise on our side…”

Leonard chuckles and it’s the most gorgeous sound Spock has ever heard. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Love me?” Spock asks, hopeful.

“Yeah.” Leonard leans in to cup the curve of Spock’s jaw and brush a breathy kiss against his lips. For a moment all Spock can hear is the rushing ring of blood in his head, and then Leonard pulls back just the barest centimeter to whisper, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162054033685/cup-o-spones-fic-fill-3) prompt: If you could write something for the prompt ‘telling Jim’ I’d be tickled pink. Doesn’t matter if it’s angsty or fluffy.

“Jim, he’s…” McCoy laughed and gazed out into middle space, eyes clouded with glittering emotion. “You wouldn’t believe how different he is.”

Silence fell. It was almost like Jim was waiting for him to go on, and so he did. Haltingly. Uncertainly. He closed his eyes to give himself strength and tried to find the words to explain this feeling inside of him.

“It’s… Not really a relationship.” His own words made him choke, and he shook his head to clear it. “No, what am I saying? It’s exactly like a relationship, but then I’ve always had a relationship with Spock. Ours was one of antagonism and occasional, burning friendship, but this is different. Why is it always romance that gets called a relationship?”

He opened his eyes and laughed, awkward. “It is that, though,” McCoy said softly. “Jim, have you ever seen him smile? I mean really smile. Not something forced out of him. Not from some cruel alien spell or a poison in his blood. Just from being happy? I-I’ve seen it, now. He’s so soft when he smiles, Jim. Soft like you wouldn’t believe. And those eyes–aw, hell. I’m a doctor, not a poet, but maybe someday I’ll become one just so I can tell him properly how I feel about his eyes.”

McCoy curled into himself, hands around his stomach. He felt the queasy flutter of butterflies in his stomach. God, he hated being in love, but now that he was he couldn’t imagine being anything else.

“I think he’s different with me now. More…caring? No, that’s not right. He’s always cared. I still remember the way he held me during those damned Vians’ test. I thought I was going to, to…” He stuttered, trailing off. “Maybe he knew then how he felt. Maybe…Spock really isn’t that different. Maybe it’s me who’s changed.”

Silence broken only by the soft, melodic chiming of machinery. McCoy sighed and buried his head in his hands.

“Dammit, Jim. Are you hearing this? I’m too old to be falling in love. I-I need your help with this.”

Jim said nothing. He couldn’t.

The Sickbay door shushed open. McCoy turned, tense at being caught in such a state, only to relax at the sight of Spock.

“Doctor,” Spock said simply, gliding across the floor to stand beside him. His hands came to rest on McCoy’s shoulders, solid and grounding. “How is he?”

McCoy leaned back into Spock, resting his head on Spock’s stomach and closing his eyes in defeat. “He’s in a coma.”

“I see.”

The biobed chimed methodically. “I don’t know when he’ll wake up.”

Spock brushed his hand through McCoy’s hair, soft and tender. “Leonard, you must sleep.”

“I can’t, I—”

“As acting Captain,” Spock said gently, “I’m afraid I must insist upon having my chief medical officer in proper working condition.”

McCoy opened his eyes and looked up at Spock. There was a smile there. A bare indent at the edge of his lip. Not a happy one, but McCoy was beginning to suspect that Spock couldn’t help but smile when he looked at him. “I don’t know if I can sleep like this.”

Spock helped him stand.

McCoy looked at him, disliking the twist of despair. “Spock, could you…” He wasn’t sure what he was asking.

Spock knew. Spock always knew him. He pulled McCoy against him and into a hug, awkward with Spock’s gangly limbs. McCoy held him back fiercely, face buried against Spock’s neck. He sucked in a breath. Another, shakier than the first.

Spock held him in the quiet Sickbay, and together they wept.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> on [tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162058423135/my-prompt-is-a-return-for-captaincommander): a return for Captain/Commander McCoy. Curzon Dax has been threatened during a diplomatic summit and now McCoy must stand in for him while he and Spock are investigating why they want Dax dead. (Other than the usual).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Click [ here ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/160216647075/i-wish-youd-write-a-fic-where-mccoy-didnt-go-to) for my other thoughts on this premise.]

Spock was certain he should not have accepted this assignment.

He had not accepted it on a whim. It had been Captain Pike’s suggestion that finally drove him to apply for a transfer to the USS  _Varanio_. The suggestion had come at the tail end of a dinner with the Captain. Pike had made these meals a custom since Spock had chosen to be his first officer. They still felt odd to him, although he’d grown used to Pike’s habits. And perhaps that was the issue, for as they talked conversation turned to Spock’s career, and Spock accidentally revealed that he felt he had stagnated.

“Well,” Pike had said, considering the issue very seriously. “Perhaps you need a new challenge.”

 _Challenge_  was a polite way of framing his new posting on the  _Varanio_. Captain McCoy was certainly challenging enough. He was also provocative and hot-headed and frequently made Spock question his emotional sanity. Perhaps that was why the Captain responded so well to Klingons. They were also an overly-volatile species.

Spock had only been on the  _Varanio_  for two days and he already felt he knew everything there was to know about McCoy. He was certainly eccentric. He spent more time in Sickbay chatting with the doctors than he did on the bridge. Usually he left Spock in command, and although Spock recognized this was Captain’s prerogative he also disliked that he didn’t command his own bridge. The rest of the crew seemed unaffected, but perhaps they had merely accepted their fate.

McCoy was also deeply illogical. Spock had always appreciated Pike’s commitment to balance. Although Pike had the same emotional turmoil as other humans did he nevertheless preferred to proceed logically. McCoy was the opposite. Spock was beginning to suspect that McCoy intentionally chose the least logical path to follow.

Take, for example, his interactions with Curzon Dax. McCoy hardly treated Dax with the courtesy due a diplomat of his rank. More often than not he pulled Dax into a fight that sent the Ensigns scurrying for the lower decks. And now that they had received a threat against Dax’s life McCoy had been ignoring him entirely.

Spock dithered outside the Captain’s quarters, padd in hand. The padd contained his resignation letter and a detailed analysis of Captain McCoy’s abysmal command style. He looked at the padd again, and then at the Captain’s door. He rang the chime.

“Not now.”

Spock arched his brow. “Captain?”

There was a rustle, and a crash, and then the door slid open and there was Captain McCoy looking haggard and drawn. “What do you want, Commander?”

“I…” Spock neatly hid the padd behind his back. “I have come to discuss the mission details with you.”

“Fine. Get in here.”

McCoy’s room was very untidy. There was a stack of knocked-over datapadds on the desk and–Spock did a double take. A Klingon bat’leth on the couch.

Spock stood in the center of the room and kept his hands folded behind his back, the padd out of sight. He could see that leaving now would put the mission in jeopardy. It would be selfish of him to request a transfer at this moment. “Security has not been able to trace the source of the signal.”

McCoy grunted. “I figured as much. It’s probably Romulan.”

Spock raised a brow. “There is not enough evidence to draw such a conclusion.”

“What, you think the Klingons are trying to mess up their own negotiations?”

“There are many Klingon factions, any of which—”

“Yeah, no.” McCoy waved a hand to silence him. “You think Klingon spy technology is that advance that we can’t trace it? It’s Romulans or I’ll eat my hat.”

Spock opened his mouth. Closed it. He tried to picture that, and failed. “Such an action is ill-advise.”

McCoy frowned at him. “It’s an expression.”

“Regardless, we must discuss how to proceed. The Klingon council will not accept an alternate diplomat, as they do not believe the threat is real, yet Dax is very likely to die if we return to the negotiation site with him.”

“I’m not risking his life,” McCoy said sternly. “And I have a plan.”

“Oh?”

“I’m going to challenge Commander Kor to a fight.”

“…Excuse me?”

McCoy smirked. “Trouble hearing today, Mr. Spock? I said I’m going to challenge Kor.”

“Captain, I would strongly advise against that.”

“You got a better suggestion?”

Spock did not. “Certainly there are other ways—”

“I’ll make it a matter of honor.” McCoy moved to the couch and picked up the bat’leth, feeling the weight in his hands. “The Klingons don’t want to acknowledge that the threat is credible, because that means they let an enemy agent get close enough to send the message. The only way to get them to investigate properly is to trounce them in a fight.”

“You should not place yourself in danger.”

“We’re about a day away from having the Klingons on our back with blasters raised because we missed the next negotiation. If we want to avoid a firefight I have to do this.”

“Captain, I must protest.”

“Go for it.” McCoy turned and set the bat’leth down on the desk, bending over it. “That’s your job.”

Spock watched McCoy for a moment, uncertain what to do next. McCoy looked… very tired. It had taken Spock over a year to learn how to recognize the signs of exhaustion in Captain Pike. He had learned McCoy’s signals in just a few days. Perhaps it was a result of the time he spent among humans; or maybe he was merely more attuned to McCoy.

“Captain,” he said slowly. “I will challenge Commander Kor.”

“What!” McCoy whipped around. “No you won’t!”

“It is logical,” Spock reasoned. “My superior Vulcan strength is nearly on par with that of Klingons. I also have hand-to-hand combat and weapons training. At the very least the  _Varanio_  would only stand to lose her first officer, not her captain.”

“No way in hell am I letting you do that.”

Spock paused, taken aback by McCoy’s vehemence. He wasn’t sure why McCoy cared so much when they had only known each other for a few days. “Then you go into certain death.”

McCoy deflated. He leaned heavily against the desk and rested his forehead on the palm of his hand. He truly wore his emotions very openly. “Spock, am I doing the right thing?”

“…I have already voiced my objection.”

McCoy chuckled without mirth. “Sorry. I’m not used to having an actual first officer around to put me in my place. How about I make you a deal?”

“A deal,” Spock repeated. Never in his years on the  _Enterprise_  had Pike ever offered a “deal” with him. He was uncertain how to handle the proposal. “Of what kind?”

“I’ll give you twelve hours to come up with a better plan. Take whatever resources you need. Even talk to Dax, if you like. If you can come up with something halfways decent that doesn’t involve you falling onto a sword or us shooting at anybody, then I’ll take it. Otherwise, Kor will be having company for dinner.”

Spock mightily resisted the urge to point out that McCoy was being contradictory in trying to protect everyone but himself. “Very well,” he said instead. “I will return to you in twelve hours.”

Spock left him at the desk, contemplating the bat’leth.

*

Spock had forty-seven datapadds and was still arguing when the beamed down to the negotiation site.

“Captain McCoy, you must recognize that you’re being irrational.”

“Oh,  _I’m_  being irrational, am I?”

“Yes.” Spock said, hastening after the Captain as he walked down the dimly lit hall. “You have not had time to duly appreciate the alternate plans I have prepared.”

“I listened to ‘em. What more do you want?”

“I want—” Spock tripped and dropped a handful of padds. Annoyed, and trying to hide it, he stooped and began picking them up. “I wish for you to engage fully with an alternate solution to this predicament!”

Suddenly McCoy was right there, kneeling beside him. McCoy reached out and picked up a padd, handing it to Spock with a small smile on his face. “Spock, if I didn’t know better I’d say you’re in a tizzy.”

Spock pursed his lips. “I have no wish to become Captain of the  _Varanio_  three days into my stay here.”

“Hey.” McCoy reached out and rested his hand on Spock’s shoulder. “It’s going to be fine. I’ve got a plan.”

“That is what concerns me.”

McCoy chuckled and stood, offering a hand to help Spock as well. Spock accepted it, juggling his datapadds as he rose. McCoy’s hand was warm and sure, and Spock was hit with an illogical burst of confidence at the mere touch. At first he assumed there had been some telepathic transference, but his shields were in place. It was just McCoy’s steadiness that inspired him.

“…Very well,” Spock agreed, although McCoy hadn’t said anything more.

McCoy still smiled at him.

The council chamber was packed with Klingons eager to see the fall of a Starship Captain, especially one as infamous as McCoy. They rattled their weapons and hooted at him as he found a place to stand at the edge of the ring, Spock at his side. Spock disposed of the datapadds and stayed one step behind McCoy, eyeing his competition.

Kor was not large, for a Klingon. Which meant he still had fifty pounds of muscle on McCoy. He held his bat’leth with the ease of years of practice. McCoy held his like he’d replicated it this morning. Spock attempted to look foreboding, but Kor merely laughed at them.

“Captain, Klingons have a weakness three centimeters below the left edge of their thoracic cavity.”

“I know,” McCoy said. “I studied medicine for six years, but I’m not going to stab him there. That could kill him.”

Spock raised both brows in surprise. “I was not aware you studied medicine.”

“You should do a little more research on your commanding officer next time.” McCoy winked.

Spock felt himself grow warm. “I hope that I will not have to.”

“Can you hold this?” McCoy handed him the bat’leth.

Spock accepted it without thinking, and then averted his gaze as McCoy stripped off his shirt. He couldn’t help but look again and was surprised to realize that Kor might actually have more trouble defeating McCoy that he had originally assumed.

“Thanks.” McCoy traded, shirt for blade. He turned to the ring and said something in Klingon that the universal translator struggled to interpret.

Spock pinched the shirt daintily in one hand as his Captain stepped into the ring, poised and ready. Spock took a deep breath, and held it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will _definitely_ have to return to this concept. Thanks to everyone who sent prompts during the fic drive!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162889648235/he-had-been-laying-here-for-hours-his-insides) prompt: He had been laying here for hours, his insides burning, his heart pounding and he knew this was not going to end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written as I took angsty prompts and tried to make them happy. I won't post all the prompt fills here but if you want to read them [ HERE ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/tagged/happy-spones-night) is the link. Enjoy!

“Why the hell did you do it!”

“My…Vulcan physiology–”

“Shut the hell up about your Vulcan physiology! I know it’s incredible!”

Leonard stalked across the cell angrily and then hurried back to him, looking concerned. He checked Spock’s temperature with the back of his hand, frowning. “I’m not sure what it’s supposed to feel like.”

“I am well, Doctor.”

“Like hell you are. You think you can drink deadly poison and then just walk it off?”

“Our captors were clear. One of us had to drink the vial or we would both–Ah!” He jerked as his muscles spasmed again, tense. He felt like his skin was on fire and then the wave passed and he relaxed, already anticipating the next wave with apprehension. “We would both,” he said between gritted teeth. “Be killed.”

“You should have let me do it.”

“I will not let you die.”

“At least it would have been fast!”

Spock flopped his head weakly to the side to look at him, hating how helpless he looked. “Leonard, please. I am–” he gasped again, “I am fighting it. I will survive.”

“At what cost?” He rested his hand on Spock’s forehead again, this time palm-down, brushing his sweaty locks from his skin. “You look terrible.”

“An…acceptable fate, if it means you are well.”

“Damned stubborn Vulcan,” Leonard chastised. “What am I going to do with you?”

Spock said nothing. They both already knew. Leonard held him through the night, giving him water when he needed it, rubbing his sore arms and legs when his muscles spasmed, kissing his temple when he grew delirious with pain. 

“Shh,” Leonard soothed him. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

“Hurts,” he moaned.

“I know. Shh, shh, I know.” He kissed his temple again and began to rub Spock’s arms. The pressure alleviated some of the pain and Spock practically sobbed in relief. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Spock thought he was hallucinating as Leonard kissed his lips, gentle, soft. When he heard the phaser fire he didn’t believe it was happening until Leonard began struggling to get him upright.

“Get us out of here!” Leonard barked. “I want Sickbay on standby and every antitoxin on the books replicated and ready.” He turned to Spock and his voice dropped to a whisper, soothing. “Shh, darlin’, it’s okay, I’ve got you. Can you stand?”

Spock managed to nod. His legs were weak but he could stand with most of his weight on Leonard. “Leonard…”

“Later, okay? Let’s get you fixed up first.”

The stumbled out of the cell and into the corridor as the security team surrounded them. The beam took them and the last thing Spock knew was Leonard’s hands on his forehead, gently brushing his hair aside to make room for a loving kiss.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162890147850/spock-watched-as-mccoys-body-took-in-the-last) prompt: Spock watched as McCoy's body took in the last light it ever would before the casket lid closed, encasing it in it's now lasting darkness. Only in death was the doctor so still, and it unsettled Spock down to his core, shook him at every nerve his Vulcan stoicism couldn't reign in. Despite the longer lifespan of Vulcans, he had still illogically expected the doctor to outlive him, if they were to both pass naturally. Even though the facts were against him, Spock still expected... no, he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written as I took angsty prompts and tried to make them happy. I won't post all the prompt fills here but if you want to read them [HERE ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/tagged/happy-spones-night) is the link. Enjoy!
> 
> Warnings this chapter: Major character death.

“Quit yer moping, I’m right here.”

Spock frowned at Leonard’s katra. “You know it is not the same.”

Their conversation was internal. No one around them would suspect that Spock still harbored a piece of Leonard within him. Leonard’s katra seemed to take physical form beside him, slightly translucent, blue eyes still bright even in death. “Seems fine to me.”

“You are dead,” Spock thought miserably.

He felt–something. He looked down and saw that Leonard had manifested to touch his arm. It didn’t feel exactly like a physical touch, but he still felt it. The psi energy vibrated against his skin.

“Hey,” Leonard said. “I can’t have you mourning me when I’m right here to hear it.”

“Leonard–”

“Don’t make me hijack this body.”

Spock’s mouth shifted inward as he suppressed a smile. He knew Leonard could still feel his happiness, but the suppression was a habit as ingrained in him as loving his  _ashayam_. “Consider it ‘pay back’ for your own mourning after my death.”

“Hey, that was one time.”

“That is a gross underestimate, but I can clearly recall the time you are thinking of.”

“What? I didn’t mourn! I was damned happy not to have to deal with you.”

“’I’m going to tell you something I never thought I’d hear myself say,’“ Spock quoted.

“Stop.”

“‘But it seems I’ve missed you…’”

“You’re taking that out of context!”

“‘And I don’t know if I could stand to lose you again.’“ He arched his brow. “Were those not your words to me?”

Leonard grumbled at him. “Maybe.”

“I was in your mind, Leonard. I know what you said.”

His katra shimmered. “…Yes. I had missed you.”

Spock focused hard and reached out, his psi energy resting against the imagined-face of his beloved. No, not imagined. It was real. Merely non-corporeal. “As I miss you now. I am pleased we are still together, but my mourning is…not logical in this regard.”

“… I understand,” Leonard said after a moment, resting his cheek in Spock’s palm. 

They stayed like that–Spock breathing, Leonard not–until the boatswain’s whistle blew and Spock opened his eyes in time to see the torpedo tube launch. Beside him, Leonard glowed brightly, lovingly, and curled a whisper of kindness around him. 

“It’s okay.”

Spock took a deep breath. Let it out. “Yes,” he said aloud, so that the assembled crew looks at him in confusion. “It is okay.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162888387950/prompt-to-fix-mccoy-is-depressed-and-drinking) prompt: McCoy is depressed and drinking alone because K/S got together and he's feeling like a third wheel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written as I took angsty prompts and tried to make them happy. I won't post all the prompt fills here but if you want to read them [HERE ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/tagged/happy-spones-night) is the link. Enjoy!

McCoy sipped at his bourbon, despondent. He twirled the glass and watched his reflection twist and shimmer. Jim and Spock had only been married for six hours and already the crew had fallen head-over-heels for the new couple. He’d seen a dozen swooning ensigns just on his walk over here. He moped and frowned at his glass.

He jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder. He turned and saw it was Spock, one of his immaculate eyebrows raised.

“Are you well, Doctor?”

“Fine, just fine.” He frowned into his glass again. 

“Hm.” Spock sounded doubtful. “You are concerned over my relationship with Captain Kirk?”

“What! No, I’m not,” he said, far too quickly. He tried to cover up the faux pas. “Seriously, it’s fine. I don’t mind at all. I think it’s great. Better than great! It’s wonderful. Perfect. Peachy-keen, exactly what I wanted out of life.”

Spock waited for him to stop blabbering and then carefully plucked the glass from his hands, setting it aside despite McCoy’s soft, “hey” of protest. Spock sat beside him on the tall stool and steepled his fingers. “You are aware that my marriage to Jim is not official.”

“Well, I mean, it was just an alien custom, yes. But you can file that form–12.36FOD? Something like that, and it’ll be official.” He sighed deeply. “I know you’ve been with him for a while, so I guess this is just the final step for you.”

“Hardly. Captain Kirk and I are not dating.”

“You’re–what?”

“We are not dating, nor have we ever dated, nor do we have plans to date.” Spock turned to look at him. “I have an interest in someone else.”

McCoy gulped. “Oh? Uh, they must be lucky.”

“You have indeed avoided death a number of times which seems to indicate that luck is an unknowable, yet prominent, factor increasing your chances of survival.”

He gaped. “Did you just say–”

“Captain Kirk and I have already filed form 47.88NTY, dissolving the marriage we were forced into on the planet. Leonard, would you care to join me for dinner this evening at 1800 hours?”

He realized his mouth was still hanging open and he shut it with a click. “I–Yes.”

Spock nodded. He seemed a little stiff. Could it be that Spock was embarrassed? “I will pick you up at your quarters.” He pushed away from the bar and stood swiftly. He hesitated, and then said quickly, words tumbling together, “Leonard, I am afraid my intentions may not be clear enough. Jim assured me that this would be a suitable way to make my attraction to you known, however–”

“Spock!” He laughed. “It’s okay. I get it. I…I like you, too.”

“I more than like you, Leonard.”

McCoy gulped at the steel in Spock’s voice. “I more than like you, too,” he whispered. “See you tonight?”

Spock nodded again, eyes bright. “Yes.” He took a step back, still not breaking eye contact. “Yes, I will see you then. Good day, Leonard.” 

He beat a hasty retreat and McCoy was left at the bar with his half-drunk glass of bourbon, struggling to suppress his laughter. He was none too successful and he finally let it out, his elation bubbling and sparkling as he chuckled at the ceiling.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ tumblr ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/post/162889011065/regulationblues-prompted-post-search-for-spock) prompt: Post search for Spock where he only remembered Jim, Bones really misses his arguing partner and feels that maybe his friendship wasn’t as important to Spock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written as I took angsty prompts and tried to make them happy. I won't post all the prompt fills here but if you want to read them [HERE ](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/tagged/happy-spones-night) is the link. Enjoy!

 

 

“Jim. Your name is… Jim.”

Jim had been so ecstatic that Spock recognized him he hadn’t noticed McCoy go stiff and awkward by his side. Spock had mingled in their little group, naming each of them in turn until he’d gotten to McCoy. Spock had been silent, his head tipped to one side as he studied McCoy. They met eyes and McCoy thought,  _It’s me! It’s me, dammit! You were inside my head!_

But Spock said nothing. Merely turned when his father called.

Now it was hours later and McCoy was tossing and turning on an uncomfortably thin Vulcan mattress. It was unfair, that was what it was. After all he’d done for Spock. After carrying him around inside his head, after all those arguments he’d pretended to lose, after all those years of– _friendship_.

He felt like crying and he buried his face in his hands, cursing the thin mattress. Spock didn’t remember him. But he remembered Spock. Lord, how he remembered Spock.

McCoy jumped at the sound of footsteps. He turned and squinted in the dark as a white-robed figure knelt beside him. 

“…Spock?”

The Vulcan nodded. He looked so eerie in the half light, his face younger than McCoy remembered, but also flatter. He’d forgotten how to smile as well. “I apologize. Were you asleep?”

“No.” He sat up and scrubbed at his face to do away with any tears. “These damned illogical beds made that impossible.”

He half expected Spock to take the bait, and when he didn’t he felt a deep disappointment. Spock merely looked at him, hair long over his ears. They hadn’t cut it yet. 

“Forgive me,” Spock whispered. “What is your name?”

McCoy turned away, swallowing past the lump of sadness in his throat. “It’s true,” he said miserably. “You really don’t remember me.”

“That is not it at all,” Spock said. “I remember you quite clearly. I have an image of you in my mind when I look at you. You are younger and in a strange room with many beds. You are smiling at me when I open my eyes.”

He turned, surprised. That could have been any number of times, but somehow he knew Spock meant that horrible fiasco on Deneva when he’d blinded Spock. “You remember that?”

“It is merely…The word which I remember calling you, I know that it is not a name.”

“What is it?” Probably some Vulcan curse, McCoy wagered.

“ _Ashayam_.”

McCoy blinked. He had never heard Spock call him that, but it sounded so sweet on his tongue. “What…what does it mean?”

“The nearest translation into Standard is ‘beloved.’“

McCoy’s breath caught. “Beloved?”

“I know from what memories I have that we were not involved romantically,” Spock said carefully. “Yet I also know that I loved you.”

“I had no idea.”

Silence hung between them for a moment. McCoy’s mind raced. Spock loved him? Had loved him? Still loved him? How could he know? Spock seemed to be considering something very seriously.

“Please,” he said after a moment. “Your name?”

“Oh. Leonard. Dr. Leonard McCoy.”

Spock nodded thoughtfully. “Leonard,” he said, as if tasting the word and finding it to be rich and sweet. “The name suits you.”

“Thank you?”

Spock stood and dusted off his robes. “I must rest. The healers insist.”

“Of course. You shouldn’t be pushing yourself.”

The old Spock might have rolled his eyes. This Spock merely gazed at him impassively and stepped towards the doors. McCoy watched him leave and was surprised when Spock hesitated in the frame. When he spoke it was hardly above a whisper.

“Good night, Ashayam.”

McCoy tingled with joy. “Good night, Spock.”

Tomorrow he would figure out how best to ask what Spock still remembered. Tomorrow he would see if Spock wanted to try something new and exciting with this gift of life. Tonight, he closed his eyes and had the best damned sleep since his retirement.

**Author's Note:**

> [Send me a prompt on tumblr!](http://adenil-umano.tumblr.com/ask)


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